Temporal Waves
by Completely Different
Summary: Rory's been kidnapped, the Doctor's been replaced, and there's a cat with a bow-tie. Add in some wibbly-ness, and you've got a day that's weird even by a Time Lord's standards.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note:**

Hey guys! This is my first piece on the site, although I've dabbled a bit in Doctor Who fanfiction, but never felt confident enough to actually post any. This particular story has been born out of my love for wanting to write something heavy with the timey-wimey confusion.

Warnings: There might be some minor use of swearing and reference to adult themes, but nothing excessive. Also, possible spoilers for all of season 6A, although I can't tell you up to what point.

**Chapter 1:**

oOoOoOo

There are few things as terrifying as waking up, and not knowing where you are.

Rory woke with a start, quite suddenly, as a low groan rocked his body. He found himself lying on top of the sheets of a stranger's bed, in an unknown room, wearing clothes that were not his own. His head throbbed painfully, like he'd fallen and hit it something hard.

There was disorientation, then pain, and then fear.

He carefully rose out of the bed, taking inspect his body. It wasn't just a throbbing head; everything felt sore, with deep aches on his left side. The room was dark, with only enough light for him to navigate by, so he couldn't really analyse his wounds, but they didn't seem to be anything worst than tender bruises. Rory tried to check if he had a concussion; but that's not something that can be easily done on yourself. Finally, he scanned his memories, trying to take stock; why was he here? What was the last thing that he could remember?

What he found did not comfort him.

Shakily, Rory got to his feet, and tried to navigate through the dark, foreign room. He found a door; nervously he tried to open it. To his surprise, it was unlocked. With his heart beat quickening, he took uneasy steps into the hallway beyond. The corridor was long, filled with an eerie blue light that seemed to emanate from the very walls. As for the walls themselves…well, they were strange. Under Rory's hand they were cold, but he could not place the material. Maybe metal, maybe plastic; mostly smooth, but there were occasional rough places. Whatever it was, it was just another unrecognisable thing in this strange place. There were no windows, but then, what else could you expect? Kidnappers don't usually choose places with nice seaside views for the incarceration of their victims. That didn't mean that Rory had to like it. Without windows, the corridors seemed painfully monotonous and similar. There were no pictures, no wallpapers, just evenly spaced roundels. It was impossible to tell one patch of wall from another, and he quickly found himself losing what little sense of direction he had. Windows also would have given him a sense of where he had already gone. And where was this place? The city? The country-side? Underground? Probably the latter. There was no real reason to suggest the last one, but Rory had a gut feeling. This place felt big, like some kind of underground bunker.

For some reason, that didn't really seem to reassure him.

What should he do? Rory didn't know. Fear tasted bitter in his mouth. But he couldn't just stand around, waiting. He didn't know who had put him here, but Rory didn't think he'd want to find out. So he'd have to keep moving; maybe then he could find out where he was, and how to escape.

So Rory started down the mysterious corridor.

oOoOoOoOo

Amy was running. Her feet slapped the floor in a frantic rhythm, her heart pounded in her chest, and her lungs burned for air. This was quite the normal state of affairs for her.

So, let's see. Random corridors of underground base? Check. Creepy blue lights? Check. Evil alien conspiracy which wanted her dead? Check. Under her arm was some sort of technical gizmo; it resembled a three-foot long purple kazoo that hummed constantly. She didn't know what it did, except that the Doctor said it was important, and that had been enough for her. The Doctor had been proven correct when the moment she removed it from the base's main power grid an alarm had gone off, signalling for the guards to chase after her. So, that was good. Not the aliens-chasing-her thing, obviously, but they'd find a way to deal with that. They always did.

She looked around; behind her were the guards, shouting and screaming. They were too far away for her to worry about yet; she ducked around a corner. Ah, yes, there was the door where they'd promised to meet. With her feet skidding on the slick, tiled ground, she swung in, pushing the door open, revealing yet another corridor. "DOCTOR!"

"Amee! Woh, good. You got eet."

The Time Lord looked more ridiculous than usual; his arms were laden with bizarre items, which looked something like elephant tusks, if elephant tusks were light pink and dripping with strange oil. The sonic screw-driver was clamped between his teeth, forcing him to mumble.

"Being chased." Amy pointed backwards. "Get the door?"

He clenched his teeth harder; there was a whirring sound, and the screwdriver glowed. There was an audible click as the door locked in place.

Amy inclined her head at the Doctor. "Shall we?"

They ran.

The Doctor had a plan; Amy knew that. Or a plan in the making. She just didn't know the details. He couldn't tell her now, not with the screwdriver in his mouth, and even if his tongue was free, the Doctor probably wouldn't have. It wasn't his style; she'd be told when it when it was important. For now, she just had to focus on running, defeating the bad-guys, and just generally being amazing. This is what she lived for; what she'd been waiting to do since she had been a little girl, when a man had dropped out of the sky in a blue box. Even though they were running for her lives, she found herself grinning at the Doctor.

Then, quite suddenly, there was a noise.

It wasn't a big noise. It was more like a groan; it started quiet, so faint that it could almost be mistaken for the background sounds of the base. Then, for a split-second, it became overwhelming. Quite suddenly, it stopped.

And in the Doctor's place was standing another man.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Rory had been wandering around for fifteen minutes, approximately. He couldn't be sure; he didn't have a watch. He'd spent those fifteen minutes feeling more and more hopelessly lost.

His nerves seemed to be working into overdrive. The creepiness of this strange building was getting to him. It almost felt like he was being watched, like there was a presence with him every moment, inspecting him. That was ridiculous, of course. He was being paranoid, even allowing for the fact that he'd just been kidnapped. He still couldn't help but look around for some type of camera.

Eventually he came across a door and had opened it up cautiously, not sure of what to expect. It was half relief, half disappointment, when he realised it was just a supply closet. True, it was an abnormally big one, filled with various chemicals and brands that Rory didn't know or recognise, but no matter where you are, closets with random clean-up gear always have the same feeling about them. Combine that with the normal, orange-y yellow light, that little closet felt like the first piece of familiarity he'd encountered all day. (Was it even day time? Rory had no way of knowing.)

A good part of him wished that he could just hide in that supply closet, but the larger, more sensible part of him told him that'd he'd have to leave eventually. So he did, but not before picking up a long, black metal object to take with him. At first Rory had thought it was the end of a vacuum cleaner, but closet inspection showed that whatever it was, that wasn't it. Still, it was long and heavy, and would definitely hurt if swung at a person.

So he left again, and started down the creepy hallways, feeling somewhat more secure with a weapon in hand.

Perhaps five more minutes passed until he found himself somewhere different. The hallway branched out in two directions, where Rory also found two doors. One was quite mechanical looking, like something you'd find out of an old _Star Trek _episode, while the other framed with ornate carvings, out of what looked like wood. It was the most unique, out of place thing Rory had come across all day. He hung there, uncertain; which door would he take?

Just as he deliberated to just peak through both, and decide then- he froze. There was the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the door. And…humming?

Rory crouched into a fighting stance, his hands gripping the metal object, painfully aware of how sweaty his palms felt. He pressed himself to the side of the door, just as they slid open, and prepared to face the stranger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

oOoOoOo

The new man stood in the Doctor's place, quite awkwardly, his arms laden with the tusks, and the sonic screwdriver clenched between his teeth. He had ears the size of satellites, and wore a dull leather jacket. Amy stopped running, and stared. "Who're you?"

"Who am I?" When the man spoke the screwdriver clattered to the ground; he didn't seem to notice. "Who are _you_?"

Amy balled her fists. Angry Red-Haired Scotsman Mode: Activated. "What have you done with the Doctor?"

"The Doctor? But I'm the-"

There was a crashing from the end of the hallway where they had just been running from, accompanied by harsh voices. That would be the guards, trying to get through the door. Amy swooped down, picking the sonic screwdriver up in her free hand; "RUN!"

Amy was planning to glare at the man to make him come with her, since there was no way that she was going to let him out of her sight, but to her mild surprise he was running right along with her.

"Who's chasing you?"

"Oh, like you don't know."

"No, I don't."

"Oh, come one; this is some kind of body swap thing, right? You've been swapped with the Doctor to get you in here- well, if you're trying to capture me, buddy, you're doing a pretty painful job of it."

"That's because I'm not trying to capture you!" No voice had ever managed to capture that exact mix of frustration, annoyance and confusion. "How don't I know that _you'r_e not capture _me_?"

How could she respond to that except by laughing?

She had absolutely no idea where she was going- the underground base was like a maze. But then, she'd gained a lot of experience in this kind of thing over the last couple of months, and when you get down to it, a place that doesn't have the people trying to kill you is as good as any. She spotted another door, which lead to yet another corridor- this one more elegant, less utilitarian than the last one. The stranger stayed by her side, even as she paused and activate the screwdriver, locking the door. It was a good thing the Doctor's taught her to use it.

He watched her curiously. "Right. So you've got a sonic screwdriver, then."

"You know what this is?" she said suspiciously.

"'Course I do. Now, let me guess, those blokes out there want to kill 'cause you're gonna' blow up their base of operations with the Geeradi oil from these tusks and that Floportian sub-transistor your holding."

"We're not going to _blow it up_. We're just going to destroy their production line."

He rolled his eyes, and motioned for them to keep moving, obviously not too keen to hang around. "That's just another way of saying blowing it up."

"They're pumping out poisons!"

"No doubt they are. Oi, don't be so angry, I love me a good bang. Gonna' make one right now. Can't have people like that running amuck on- where are we?"

_Who the hell is this guy? "_Treefarex Six."

"Right, can't have them run amuck on Treefarex Six. So, let's go blow up a production line."

He was at a full run now, and Amy found herself scrambling to keep up, both physically and mentally. "Wait, what, you're helping us? Why? What's going on?"

"Not completely sure, to be honest. As for why, well, I'm the Doctor, it's what I do."

oOoOoOoOo

Rory clutched the metal rod tighter, and with one last breath, swung around to face the stranger-

-who didn't even flinch, and instead stood blinking at him. "What are you doing with my Mercury Dust Extractor?"

Rory felt his arm stop mid-swing, he was so surprised. He tried to remain calm. "Where are we?"

The stranger (and never had such a term been more fitting, as this man was certainly strange) looked around. He glanced at the ornate wooden door. "Outside the library."

"Oh? And where's the library?" Oh, God, his voice had definitely squeaked.

"Um, right there," the man said, pointing and looking baffled. The man really was nothing like he'd been expecting, and his unorthodox appearance had been enough to make the kidnapped man pause. He was thin and young, with messy hair, and wearing, of all things, a tweed jacket. "Are you okay, Rory?"

"Okay?_ Okay! _Well, let's see, I wake up in a strange room, covered in bruises, in some building I don't recognise, with absolutely no memory of how I got here, and then some random guy in tweed, who's probably my kidnapper, shows up and knows my name-_ how do you think I'm feeling?_"

The words tumbled out of Rory's mouth like a torrent of fear and adrenaline, and they seemed to physically hit the man. The stranger's expression slowly dropped into one of wariness. He extended his hands slowly, like he was talking to a wild animal.

"Rory," he said slowly. "Do you know who I am?"

"Should I?" It sounded like a snarl.

"Yes. Yes, you're really, truly, very much should."

He shouldn't listen. Rory knew that. All logic said to fight, to hit this man, to find the police, to get away. But as the stranger stared at him with the most tender, caring expression, and there was something in his eyes- (eyes that seemed too old for that boyish face)- that seemed to quell all logic for a moment. And Rory found just a second of trust. "Right, then. Who are you?"

"The Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"No. Nononononono, Rory,_ no_. You know me."

The trust was waning now. Rory was starting to get angry at himself; why had he hesitated? He'd lost the element of surprise, let the guy's surprising appearance get the best of him- now how would he get away? "I've never seen you before in my life!"

"Yes, you have. Remember, saved the entire Earth with your phone? It was very impressive." As the hostility began returning to Rory's face, 'The Doctor' began to scramble. "Now, come on. I was at your stag night. Actually, know what?- forget the stag night, bad thing to remember right now. I _was_ at your wedding, though. Amy! Remember Amy? You must do. Showed up in her garden, she called me the Raggedy Doctor…"

"Wait, _what_. The Raggedy Doc- you _sicko_." Fury coursed through him, and Rory found himself pressing the stranger up against a wall. "Amy has spent her entire life trying to forget about that, so if you're trying some sick ploy, kidnapping me to get to her, I'll, _I'll_…."

"I HAVEN'T KIDNAPPED YOU!" He sounded so distressed; not afraid, just distraught. "Roranicus Pond, you have to trust me-"

"That's not my name."

"Right. Right. Rory Williams, you have to listen to me. I swear that I did not kidnap you, and that I would never hurt you. I think you've lost your memories."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Is it? It's physically possible. You said yourself that you have no idea of how you got here. You could be missing more than a couple hours worth of memories. I know for a fact that you are."

Rory shivered. He tried to ignore the sense of trust this man seemed to exude; focused on the facts and logic. "I don't believe you. Occam's Razor. Either I've been kidnapped and drugged, or I'm with my girlfriend's time travelling imaginary friend and lost months of my life."

"Exactly! Also, it's more like years, really."

"Years." How much incredulity can be packed into one word?

This Doctor guy grinned. He was apparently a little bit thick. "Yes, years. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure that I can get them back. Almost certain. Now, look at this sensibly. Why would I kidnap you? And if I had done- which I haven't- I wouldn't have let you sleeping in an unlocked room, now would I?"

That _was_ a good point. But then maybe he was just a very stupid kidnapper. "How come I'm covered in bruises, then?"

"You fell down, of course. You're very clumsy."

It shouldn't be like this. All Rory should have to do is try to knock this guy down and run for safety. Why is he standing here talking? That's what Rory was thinking even as he wearily asked, "You still haven't proved anything."

"Well then, one whopping big order of proof coming right up."

oOoOoOoOo

Jackie Tyler glared at her daughter. "You do _not_ need to go looking for him."

"But he's been away for hours!"

"And you've been away for weeks. Honestly, Rose, stop fussing. The man's handled who knows what, I'm sure he can deal with London for a couple hours. And _you_ can handle visiting your mum for the same amount of time."

"Oh, mum," Rose protested, and collapsed on the sofa.

Captain Jack grinned at her from an armchair, over a cup of tea. He'd been perfectly charming, the best house-guest you could have. Which was all well and good, because Rose had ordered him to behave, because she wouldn't have been able to handle it if both he and the Doctor got on Jackie Tyler's bad side. But now he was being _too_ good. When she mouthed a pained 'help' he just smiled even more broadly, clearly saying 'she's right, you know.'

Maybe the Doctor was right. Domestic can be a pain in the ass.

Rose felt four light feet land on her stomach. She looked up to find two green eyes staring down at her. "Who's _this_?

Jackie glanced over at the cat. "Oh, that's just Embers."

"You bought a cat?"

"I didn't buy him. He just wanders around the estate, and likes coming into the apartment. You never fixed that cat flap, so there's nothing stopping him, is there?"

Rose struggled into a sitting position, trying not to knock the animal off. "But you're letting it stay?"

Jackie shrugged. "He doesn't live here. Just comes in to visit, sometimes. Besides, Ember's not hurting anyone, is he?"

Jackie made one of those ridiculous 'isn't it cute' expressions at it- (both the Doctor and Jack would have been quick to point that Rose could often wear an identical one on her own face). Rose stared disbelieving at the animal. Jackie Tyler had never been much of a cat person; she liked small fluffy things well enough, but she had to be able to faun over them. This cat hardly looked like the pampering type. It was nearly jet black, with a few white spots on its flank, and emerald eyes. It looked fairly mangy, with a tattered ear. Why would Jackie want this little tramp?

Rose looked up, watching her mum, as she busied around the house, asking if Jack wanted anything else, and telling Rose that she "really should stop by more often, if just to get her washing done, her clothes are filthy, doesn't that ship have a washing machine?"- and she felt an unexpected surge of guilt. Was her mum lonely? That was ridiculous, of course, she had all her friends on the Estate to keep her company, not to mention Mickey. But then, after what Rose had said to Mickey in Cardiff, just a few weeks ago, he might not be that keen to drop by his ex-girlfriend's mum's place.

So, yeah. Maybe she was lonely. Lonely enough to latch onto a stray that came through the cat-flap. When Rose suddenly recalled seeing the Doctor's goofy face through that very same flap, she thought she understood it herself.

But then she was thinking about the Doctor again- _what was taking him so long_?- and all thought of Jackie and the cat went out of her mind.

oOoOoOo

**Author's Note**: To start off, a big thank you for those who left reviews on the last chapter- AdidasandPie, Pilcrow and breather89. They were such great encouragement.

Also, the introduction of Rose and Jack. If I didn't make it clear enough, they're still from Nine's era, in-between the episodes 'Boom Town' and 'Bad Wolf'. On another note, this is the first time I've ever tried writing Rose Tyler, in any capacity, so I'd absolutely love some feedback and constructive criticism in that area.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

It had turned dark- and dark, on an English summer night, was late indeed- and the Doctor still had not returned to the Tylers' flat. Rose had grown more and more anxious, until she finally had gotten up to go check the TARDIS outside, hoping that the Doctor had just decided to return to the ship instead of having to deal with Jackie's...unique personality.

Jack had waited a while, and then given Jackie a mostly-sincere 'thank you for your hospitality' before heading outside to join Rose. The girl was leaning dejectedly against the blue box, staring blankly at the ground. "Now, Rose, don't you think you're being a bit immature?"

"Says the man who has to flirt at least once every five minutes."

"Hey, I managed to keep quiet for the whole afternoon."

"No you didn't. You made ten comments, Jack. I counted. I've committed most of them to memory, if you want to hear them."

Jack laughed, and leaned against her. "Sounds like an invitation. Seriously, though. Stop worrying. How often does the Doctor disappear for hours on the TARDIS?" It was a rhetorical question, and Rose didn't bother answering. "If the Doctor's in trouble, he'll handle it, or he'll call us for help."

She wanted to respond- say that she'd known the Doctor for longer, or something equally scathing- but was interrupted by a rather loud mew.

The two time-travellers looked down. Ember the cat sat at their feet, and began batting at their legs. Rose grinned. "I'll admit, that's pretty cute."

Ember mewed again, probably in agreement, or just a general declaration that cats were always cute. It was funny; felines always seemed so intelligent that it sometimes felt like they were actually trying to communicate. When Rose admitted as much to Jack, he said they were. "Or at least, by my time. A lot of Terran animals have evolved by the 51st century, or been genetically modified. Most have intelligence equal to humans, and probably even higher than some of us."

"Really? You're lying."

"No, I swear. I once had to work with a cat. Have you bred Silver Siamese by the 21st century? No? Well, she was one, beautiful girl. Had fur like starlight, I used to say. She'd bite me for it. Pretended she didn't like flattery, but I knew..."

And then Jack was off on another tale, launching into one of his amazing anecdotes, and really, no one could tell a story like the Captain. The two of them were so wrapped up in their conversation that they didn't even notice the cat, which had begun to drag its muzzle across the ground, in strange sweeping motions.

It was right near the end of the story- (something involving a mind reader, the Silver Siamese lady, and a fifteen tonnes of dynamite) when Jack noticed. "Hey, what's he doing?"

Maybe it was finished, or maybe the cat had heard them, but it stopped, and stared unblinkingly at them. It was difficult to see in the darkness, so Rose fished her cell-phone out of a pocket; snapping it open turned on a light, and they were able to see. They saw a small piece of chalk lodged between the cat's teeth; and more importantly they saw, in untidy, shaky letters, the word 'Rose' written on the pavement in front of them.

"Jack- that's my name!"

The captain gave her a look that said 'duh', and got down to the ground, looking the animal in the eye. "Can you understand us?"

A pause. Then a quick nod.

Communicating with a cat. Just another day in the life. Rose felt excitement bubbling up. "Are you- are you really a cat? Or are you an alien? Don't worry, we won't hurt you either way, we just want to know."

The cat bent down to write, but then dropped the chalk, looking indignant. It swiped its tail, and walked over to the TARDIS doors. It began to bat the blue box with its paw.

"You want to get in?" _Nod._

"Listen, we just can't let you in- you need to tell us who you are," Jack insisted. It mewed, and it almost sounded like a voice, a voice talking to them, but the words were just out of reach. When the cat realised they obviously couldn't understand, it went and picked up the chalk. The two of them watch with interest as it drew with its mouth, slowly and clumsily spelling out two words; "The Doctor".

"Do you know him?" Rose felt a sudden flash of inspiration, which if she hadn't spent the last year or so travelling in a time machine, would have sounded impossible. "Are _you_ the Doctor?"

A head shake. A nod. Then a half-shake. If it was possible to look both pensive and confused, Embers managed it. It settled for batting at the TARDIS door again.

"That's not an answer."

The cat glared at them.

"Listen," said Rose. "If you need help, we'll give it to you. But we can't just- we can't just let you in. We need to be able to trust you. Do you know the Doctor?"

There was a nod.

"Are you his friend?"

Another nod.

Rose and Jack shared a glance. Did they have a choice?

"Alright," Jack said grudgingly. "But this better be for a good reason. And you stay in Rose's arms. We're going to find out what exactly is going on here."

oOoOoOoOo

"Proof, proof, proof, proof…" The Doctor muttered away as he led Rory down the hallways. These ones were different; grey walls with normal yellow lights, and roundels along the walls. It almost seemed….friendlier. After a while the Doctor had even told Rory that he could put down that rod he'd found (or, to be accurate, a mercury dust extractor, whatever that was) but he wasn't about to relinquish the one piece of protection he had in this strange place. Nonetheless, things felt different here. Even if Rory still swore he could sense a nagging presence, it didn't seem so scary or scrutinising, but protective.

But then he remembered he was thinking about an _unseen presence_, and anything reassuring about the thought quickly vanished.

"Right in here, Rory," the Doctor said as they came to another door, and Rory was tempted to make a clever quip about how he'd been saying that for the last five minutes. But he was still too on edge, and before he could even formulate some words, the Doctor had opened the door.

The room was bright, and orange, and shining. Light seemed to sparkle off every surface. The place was circular, with stairs curling around the edges. The floor below appeared to be made of glass, as was the center-piece, something which looked like a hand-blown bauble, but one as large as the glassblower who made it. Around the cylindrical piece of glass was what appeared to be a console; one made of a million strange levers, screens and dials, doodas and whatsits. Rory's eyes seemed to be drinking it all in, but you could stand in there for hours, and not be able to take in every detail.

"Its...well..." He didn't want to say it. Not when he felt so confused and afraid. But it was _beautiful_.

"Pretty amazing, huh? The console room is the centre. Everything leads off from here. And I mean everything." He hopped down the stairs, skipping happily across the room, urging Rory towards the furthest set off doors. "Including that proof. Evidence. Previdence. No, that's rubbish. Let's stick with proof."

He grabbed Rory by the hand, and opened the door.

It's an interesting fact that the Doctor sometimes repeats himself. He loves to show off, but can't always think of new ways to do it. So if Rory had known this, or known what the Time Lord had done the first time Amy Pond entered the time machine, it would not have struck him as a surprise when the Doctor latched onto his arm, pushed the human out of the ship, and into the dead of space.

Rory screamed.

He screamed and flailed as he suddenly found his legs hanging in the middle of no-where; he was lost in space, there was no familiar tug of gravity, he was floating...and there were stars, all around, and he found himself looking down on a sphere of yellow, purple and blue, with the light of an unfamiliar orange sun on his back. Rory realised that he was floating in an alien sky, staring down at an alien planet. The Doctor smiled up at him, reassuring, his hand still a comforting life-line back to the ship.

The ship. Rory stared at it, amazed. Tentatively he let go of the dust extractor, reached out his now free hand and felt the ship's side. His sense of touch confirmed what his eyes told him, but logic said couldn't be true.

"It's...it's smaller on the outside."

"Why, yes-" the Doctor paused, looked momentarily disappointed. Then he smiled. "Close enough."

"I'm in space, right? I mean, this is real?" Rory felt a bubble of hysterical laughter jump from his throat. "How am I breathing?"

"There's a shell of air surrounding the ship. It's keeping you safe." He paused. "So, does this seem at all familiar? Do you recognise it?"

"Of course I do." How could he not? He'd seen it hundreds, maybe thousands of times; every time he stepped into it, it had been another adventure. An adventure purely fabricated by him and Amy, true, but real enough to two children with expansive imaginations. Touching the wood, it was slightly warm, even in the void of space, thrumming with life. He could scarcely believe it. "It's Amy's blue box."

From inside the box, the Doctor's face darkened. "Yes…yes it is. But do you remember it? Not a picture, not a drawing or model or cardboard box, but this itself?"

He just shook his head.

The Doctor- for it must surely be him, not some cruel trickster taking his name- let Rory hang there for a few more moments, before pulling him in. The moment he crossed the doors' boundaries gravity came crashing back; and with it came the reality of the situation.

Rory was in space. He was in _space_, in a blue box which was bigger on the inside, in the company of his girlfriend's imaginary friend. And he had apparently lost his memory.

This was not good.

oOoOoOoOo

Cats often like to bring little gifts to their owners.

Before Martha had finally decided on being a doctor, she had played around with the idea of being a vet, and so knew a thing or two about animal psychology. A cat bringing a little present, like a dead bird or mouse, could mean a couple things. While most people interpreted as either a cute gesture of affection or horribly disgusting, that wasn't the most common reason. More often that cat was annoyed at just how inept these silly humans were, and was trying to teach their pitiful owners to hunt, like they would do for their kittens. Martha would have suspected that today this was the case, but she had no idea what type of cat hunted for bow-ties.

Martha looked down at the bed which she had been working from for the last three days as she fought off a nagging cold. Among the pillows, computer, files and papers were the bow-ties. Their little cat, Marbles, had started bringing them from about ten AM onwards; there were four so far. One was Mickey's, which he only ever wore to important high-class events, but Martha had absolutely no idea where the other two had come from. The little rascal had probably stolen them from the neighbours.

"What's this, eh?" she said, plonking the animal in her lap. She dangled Mickey's bow-tie in front of the little cat. "You don't take clothes, okay? That is bad. _Bad_."

"You're right it's bad," Mickey said, stomping into the room. "You are _not_ dressing him up in clothes. A man's got to have his dignity."

"He's a cat," Martha said teasingly. She'd never quite understand her husband's reaction to Marbles, which they'd gotten nearly a year before. Mickey had been pestering for a kid. She thought their line of work to be too dangerous for one. They'd compromised on a pet. She'd been given strict instructions not to become too silly or doe-eyed over Marbles, which was ridiculous, because Lord knew how much Mickey would faun over a son or daughter. "Besides, I'm not dressing him up. Marbles seems to have taken to stealing bow-ties for me." 

Mickey snorted, and dropped his back-pack on to the ground. "Beats mice."

"Yeah, it does," she said, as the cat gave an indignant mew and stalked out of the room.

The man flopped down on the bed, nearly crushing a stack of reports, and the two began to argue about who had had a worst day. It was a close one. The clogging doom of stuffy noses and UNIT's intergalactic regulations, versus an infestation of space-bats. It was only when Mickey revealed the fact that space-bats can actually shoot laser from their eyes when victory clearly landed in the latter's favour.

It was about the time where Martha admitted defeat with a laugh (which quickly degraded into a cough) when the cat came back. He dropped something on Mickey's foot.

"Ouch! That hurt." He glared at the cat, and picked the thing off the ground. "A screwdriver? Where did you even get this?"

"Did you leave the tool box open again?"

"No."

Martha gave her husband a look.

"Okay, maybe I did." He picked the little tabby up by the scruff of the neck, and looked into its eyes. "Don't do that. It's dangerous. Those tools can hurt you, and that's just the human ones." The cat, of course, didn't seem to understand at them, or perhaps did and opted for the I'm-too-cute-to-punish look. To the cat's credit, it seemed to work, as the human sighed, placed Marbles back on the bed, and pocketed the screwdriver.

The two of them shortly decided to go hunt down something for supper ("preferably chicken soup"), and neither of them noticed the cat stalk over to the open lap-top, and labouriously began to type out the letters s-o-n-i…..

oOoOoOoOo

It was probably a testament to the on-the-job training that Amy had gotten that she was skilled enough at blowing up evil bases that she could do it with only half the necessary information, all the while holding a confused conversation with a complete stranger.

Except that he was not, apparently, a stranger, but actually the Doctor.

"How can you be the Doctor?" she had asked while they run.

"I can change my face! Oh, come on, don't you know that I'm an alien? When my species die we make a new body."

They heard people coming from the other direction. The two of them quickly dodged into a nearby room, locked the door, and mentally willed the guards to walk pass. Even as they heard the guards march past the door she whispered in his ear (which was uncomfortably close, due to the fact that the 'room' was really more of a very tiny closet stuffed with boxes) the words "I don't believe you."

He elbowed her and whispered, "You don't need to. Shut up."

The rest of the conversation was put on hold while they sneaked through the base- although sneaked might be an ill description, considering their stealth was somewhat hindered by the very obvious pink tusks and equipment they carried. Understanding passed between them; they should focus on getting the job done, and then sort everything else out.

Eventually they found themselves in a darker corridor; the ceiling was low, and the blue lighting made Amy feel like she had somehow wandered into a cave. A cave with drilling going on above it, that was. For the whole place was alive with sound; the alarm she had set off was still echoing through the entire base, but now it was also accompanied with a deep-throated grinding. It was the unmistakable noise of machinery, guiding them to the centre of the base of operations. It was loud enough here that they could speak, and not have to worry about them being tracked by the sound of her voices. Perhaps this wasn't the best time. Maybe she should have kept on going, and interrogate the mysterious man later, but Amy was afraid that if she didn't act soon she'd loose her chance.

"So, Time Lords can just go and change their bodies?"

"Yes! Which way do we go next?"

"Um- through here." She recalled walking through this door shortly after they had landed. "Okay, so prove it. What does the Doctor travel in?"

"TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. Shaped like a 1963 police box."

"Hmmph." Amy questioned him some more, but it was difficult thinking of general questions to ask, when the Doctor hoarded his secrets so jealously. "Right then. Who am I?"

That's when the man hesitated. "I...don't know."

"Ha!" She turned to face him, fury radiating from her body. "So you _were_ lying. Tell me the truth!"

"I am telling you the truth!"

"No, you're not! You keep saying that- but the Doctor would never, ever forget about me, ever if he had died or changed bodies or whatever. So you better stop lying, before I..." _Before I what?_ Amy wasn't sure. "...bite you. Hard."

"I haven't forgotten you. I never met you, not yet."

"And how's _that _supposed to work?"

"Easily! Look!" He was shouting to be heard over the noise. "I'm a time traveller. You don't recognise me. I don't recognise you. One moment I was in London, next I'm on Treefarex Six. By my best guess there's something, or someone, messing with the linear flow of my temporal time stream, and swapped two points within it. So I'm a Doctor who came before your Doctor. Basic deduction."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"Yes!"

"Well, you're taking me for an idiot."

"Well, maybe you are an idiot!" The man snarled at her. "In a situation like this, the first thing I should be doing is tracking down the anomaly, but instead I'm crawling around some bloody facility, taking twice as I should because some idiot ape girl is too thick to know when to shut her gob."

Amy felt fury course through her. She opened her mouth to reply-

-but then there was the sound of the guards.

The pair turned around, instantly alert. Through the sound of their shouting and the machinery they hadn't even noticed the enemy's approach. They couldn't see them, not yet, but it sounded like they were just a corner away.

Amy knew with a feeling like lead, that they were too close for them to escape. They had been stupid, standing around like sheep for slaughter. She started to ask what should they do, did he have a plan, but in answer strong arms gripped her. She looked around to see the man pinning her in place, securing her in his grip, taking the sonic screwdriver. She screamed and struggled and yelled, angry at him, angry at herself, and tried to break free. The false-Doctor just held tighter, and whispered; "Stop struggling. It'll make it easier."

Amy just fought harder. She could get away, she had to- this man had no handcuffs, no rope, with time she could break loose of his sweaty hands. But so soon, too soon, the guards caught up, surrounding them, and Amy knew with a horrible feeling of defeat, that she was captured.

oOoOoOo

Rory felt numb.

Nothing made sense; nothing was believable. He felt like a lost little kid...but no, it was worse than that, because kids are allowed to feel confused, to not know what was going on. But he was older, wiser, and he still didn't know what was happening. Around him the man chattered and talked, making dings and bangs, saying words that should be reassurances but felt like reminders of just how strange everything was. The Doctor spoke like they were old friends, referencing adventures they'd shared, forgetting that Rory didn't understand anything he was saying, and what little Rory did comprehend, seemed scary and confusing and utterly impossible.

But somehow, in another life, a life he had forgotten, this had obviously been routine. "Just...is there any ways I can get my memory back?"

"Oh, undoubtedly! What did you think I was working on?" the Doctor assured him. He then babbled out some sentences which made no sense- something about action potentials and psychic resonance and retcon, and Lord knows what else- before finally settling down next to the human. Then he spoke in something resembling sense. "I'll just need to make a psychic connection with your mind. I should be able to sort through it, find where your memories have been hidden, and bring them back to the surface."

"Right...right. Okay, what will I have to do?"

"Nothing, just keep still. Well, not literally sit still, though that would probably help. No, I mean, keep your mind still. And, well, I'm sorry Rory. Usually when you walk through someone else's head you give them a chance to put up barriers. Just common courtesy, but we don't really have that luxury..."

"Wait, wait, what does that mean? That you'll be able to see all of my thoughts?" Rory suddenly thought of this near stranger having access to all of the things he'd _ever_ thought- even the stupid, the mean, the inappropriate- and blushed.

"Yes. Don't worry, I'll try not to look too closely! But your memories could be hidden anywhere. I can't let you but up barriers that would hide them. So...try not to kick me, okay?"

The Doctor leaned forward, and placed his fingers on Rory's temples.

It is near impossible to accurately describe what happened next, as the English language simply does not have adjectives to describe a physic encounter. The best one can manage is through inaccurate metaphors and almost-comparisons.

Rory found himself closing his eyes, trying to feel calm and peaceful. That didn't last long when he first felt it. It was like...it was like...cold fingers, running through his mind. Light and quick and curious, and shocking to the touch. Rory jumped back from them; they were alien, they didn't belong here. But then a voice- although it wasn't a voice, it was more like a thought, but it sounded all wrong- spoke, and told him to _stop that._

The fingers started to scurry along what could best be described as the seams of Rory's mind...and it felt like somebody running their fingers along a delicate edge, not really looking or taking in details, just noting and moving on. It was strange, and awkward, but Rory found himself able to pull himself back. It was like a check-up at the doctor's. It wasn't a good feeling when someone pressed strange instruments in places they didn't belong, but it had to be done, so you let them do it.

The thought-voice spoke again. _Maybe you can help me a bit._

_How? _Rory asked, instinctively.

_Think of the right things. The TARDIS, me, Amy, aliens, things like that. Those ideas might still be linked to your hidden memories._

So Rory did. It was easy. These things came to his mind like at the whisper of suggestion; the little cardboard blue box that he'd helped make when he was ten, the Star Wars movies, his old Raggedy Doctor costume, Amy's red hair gleaming in the sun-light...

The pictures kept coming, linked to one another. Rory could feel the Doctor's probing mind leaping from one thought to the other, but almost started to forget his presence, as he became absorbed in his own thoughts. There was the smell of the forest where they used to play as kids, the taste of fish custard that had been shoved down his throat, the brilliance of that blue box hanging in space, the question of what Amy would think if she saw where he was right now...

And that's when it happened.

The Doctor started to press more urgently, focusing on the thoughts, and this sent shivers of shock through Rory's mind. The cold fingers were pressing against his memories; and they belonged someone he didn't know, he'd never met before, but he was here, in the most private part of the mind. And now the Doctor was picking up pace, becoming more hurried, and feelings of fear seemed to leak into Rory's mind, a poisonous, intrusive spill.

Rory reacted with revulsion, bucking and jumping back, and that voice said to _stop, relax, _but the voice wasn't meant to be in here at all and it just made everything worst- and then Rory found himself pressed against the presence, gripping those cold fingers dead on, but they weren't fingers; now they were becoming a pool of cool water, infinitely deep...

...and he was falling...

..._There was a taste of ashes, and a burning tingle on his skin, the remnants of the regeneration. He had forgotten that warm feeling as he used new muscles to climb and pull, and it was an alien joy to feel unfamiliar hands pull his body up; and ah, the fresh English air! It smelled like apples. Well, no, really it smelled nothing like apples, but he'd really love an apple. And who was that girl there? Did she have any apples?_...

That little girl. That little girl was _Amy._ Rory could see her in his mind's eye, clear as day.

_...a cricket bat, a cricket bat, who hit people with cricket bats? The same person who carried hand-cuffs, apparently..._

Rory shuddered...these weren't his thoughts, this wasn't his mind, but as he struggled to escape, he found himself falling further...

_...Humans! Humans! This was no time to be thinking of things like this- not when there were cracks in time, and a woman from his personal future, and missing memories, but did they listen? He jumped back in shock as he felt Amy's hands against his skin, her body against his. This wasn't the time, whatever she might be feeling, whatever _he_ might be feeling. How could he stop this? Ah! Yes, her fiancé. Of course. Find him, that would be a good start..._

_...Rory took the shot, the one intended for the Time Lord, and now Amy was crying, yelling, pleading, but she wouldn't even have the chance to mourn, not as the destructive maw of the crack began to wrap around her fiancé's body..._

...The human's psyche shuddered as he watched, terrified at what he was seeing, but still unable to do anything...

..._there was a surge of anger, and self-hatred, even as he watched the white Flesh drip onto the TARDIS floor, and the promise that they would find her, wherever her true body had been taken..._

_...mist and smoke, and the sound of gunfire, ran through the air. He was running, and the solace of his blue box stood clear to the side..._The body in the memories turned, and Rory felt a cold shock when he saw himself, struggling across the battlefield. _A grenade exploded to their right; it sent up a cloud of dust, and Rory was hidden from view. There was a loud groan, and he was just able to see him fall- stupid human physiology, why did it have to be so weak?..._

The scene shifted once more. ..._He laid Rory the bed, and carefully inspected him. No real damage, just bruising down his side- so why was he out? Maybe he'd hit his head. Maybe he'd gotten hit by a dose of knock-out gas. It didn't matter. Either way, he'd be down for the next few hours, so there was time to plan their next move, to find their next contact..._

Then it was like the water pushed and rebelled; it formed that cold hand around him, holding him back before he fell into yet another memory. Rory struggled weakly, but he was too exhausted to do anything as the alien mind slowly guided him, pulling him away and out, as his own physical form settled around him-

With a shudder, he opened his eyes, and Rory never thought he'd be so thankful to find himself in a body that was his own.

oOoOoOoOo

**Author's Note: **Although I'm trying to update the story at least once a week, I realise this chapter came a little bit later than I wanted, mostly due to being beyond busy at work right now. Hopefully it came out okay, although I think this is one of the chapters I've found most difficult to write out of any story I've done before. So I'd love to hear feedback!

(Also; Doctor Who starts up again in just a month! Who's ready for "Let's Kill Hitler"?)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Guards thundered down the hall, coming around the corner like an avalanche of guns and muscle. Amy gave them all a stare so burning that it could make even the most sceptical believe in pyrokinesis. The red-head only wished that she could turn that glare onto the man who was currently pinning her arms to her back.

In moments a living wall was created; Amy found fifteen guns trained on her. One guard- a towering, purple alien- came forward to speak, with a mouth so full of teeth that it was difficult to understand him. "You are surrounded. We have captured you."

"No, that would be me." Amy could almost hear the cheeky grin the false-Doctor's voice.

"No," repeated the guard. "We have captured the male and female humanoid intruders."

"You must be mistaken." A dark edge had crept into his voice. "You have captured _the_ female humanoid, but only _a_ male humanoid. A wrong one. I'm not the one you're looking for; in fact, it would appear that I'm the only one competent enough to catch an unarmed civilian in this entire base."

The head guard started to growl, and his purple scales flushed to a mauve colour. He looked ready to shoot his laser blaster, but a guard's voice interrupted him. Said voice sounded scared. "He's right, sir. That's a different man."

The guard turned to stare at the source of the voice, never taking the gun off his target. "Oh?"

Despite everything, Amy felt a flutter of pity for the guard. She sounded like a human girl, not much older than herself. It must take a lot of bravery to stand up to this mound of muscle and teeth. "No-no. The intruder on camera looked younger, with more hair, and had completely different clothes."

The head guard glared at her for several long moments, then grunted in consent. "If you say so. You humans all look the same to me."

The false-Doctor stepped forward, careful to keep a grip on Amy, like a warning. "Maybe you'll be able to recognise this, instead." With his free hand, he dug into his leather jacket, producing a leatherflap holding a piece of paper. Amy only saw the inside for a second, but it was enough for her to recognise it was blank. _Physic Paper_. "Can you tell me what this says?"

Everyone craned to read it. Then the lead guard flushed pink, and the others shuffled nervously. "Head of Security and Covert Operations," he muttered. "My deepest apologises, sir, we never intended-"

"Never intended to let your defences to get so slack, _I should think_. I am simply _appalled_ by the state of this facility. It literally took me seconds to enter undetected, and for me to later discover the entire security force has been unable to capture just two intruders- it is simply shameful." He shook his head in disgust. "And we have been standing here for minutes, and no one has properly subdued this prisoner. Handcuffs, immediately."

Amy struggled, but it was mostly a show. She recognised what this was. This was a plan. A ploy to escape. Still, as she felt one of the guards roughly cuff her, she couldn't help but give the maybe-Doctor a bitter glare. For just a second, too quick for anyone else to notice, an apology seemed to flash across his face.

"Now," he barked, once Amy was properly secured. "You- get back to searching. We still have one intruder loose, and I don't want to see any of you until he is in your custody. Go!" The majority of the security scattered the moment the head guard nodded his consent, still looking too deeply humiliated to do anything else. The Maybe-Doctor gave a critical eye to those who remained. It was a small group of only five beings, but more than enough to overcome the two of them if they chose to break their cover. They would need to tread carefully. "As for you lot, I want access to our central operations."

"Yes- yes, of course," muttered the head-guard, who began to lead them off.

"Wait," said the same young female guard. "Do you want us to escort the prisoner to a cell first?"

"No." The Maybe-Doctor didn't even look at her.

"But it's completely against regulations," she argued, barely quailing under the heavy stare of her superior. "'All prisoners must be subdued immediately and escorted from the premises'."

"Regulations change." The Maybe-Doctor shrugged, and pulled on Amy's shoulder. "Besides, I've seen no reason to prove that you lot could even manage to escort this prisoner without letting her escape. She stays with me. It's not like she'll manage to get her hands of these Geradii horns, drop them into the main mixing vat before using floportian sub-transistor to resonate the enantomers in the solution. That would completely neutralise your operations, but surely you aren't lax enough to let _that _happen?"

Amy had to admit, he _was_ very convincing. He spoke with the ease of a practised liar.

"Besides," he continued. "This will give me a chance to interrogate her for further information."

She watched as he picked up the pink horns and sub-transistor (they'd fallen to the ground in all the commotion and Amy hadn't even noticed), carrying them under one arm. He managed it with great dignity. Even though it was the guards leading them, it was obvious that it was really the Maybe-Doctor in charge. As they were led through the corridors, the sound of machinery grew ever stronger. Amy was on high-alert, watching and remembering everything, so she'd know how to escape as quickly as possible. She tried to avoid the notice of the guards, and thought about the Maybe-Doctor's coded instructions to her; get the horns, drop it in the main mixing vat, and she should be able to destroy the facility's machines. Sounded easy enough. But with her hands cuffed behind her back, Amy sure hoped this guy had a couple extra steps to the plan that he hadn't told her.

The ceilings became even lower and the tall lead-guard soon had to stoop. This made Amy smile to herself. This underground lair wasn't very well constructed; the cramped space would hinder the guards when the time for escape came. Mr. Purple Alien wasn't be able to tell humans apart, and Amy hoped he was prejudiced enough not to notice their natural advantage in area of running.

Finally, the procession came to a halt in front of a heavy metal door. The head guard lumbered forward, and pressed his claw-like hand onto sensor adjacent to it. There was a moment pause before an electronic voice asked for identification. The head guard gave it, providing a long, rumbling sound that Amy assumed must be a name, adding that he was accompanied by four guards, an official and prisoner. Two guards stayed back to watch carefully as they went in before following themselves. Maybe these guys did have something resembling security, after all.

The room inside was cavernous- or, rather, if it would be if the cavern wasn't so very full of pipes, boilers, vats and walkways, giving it the overall impression of being a cave far too stuffed with equipment. The creepy blue lights were now built right into metal rails, which in the gloom seemed snake through a maze of machinery. They were marched onto the railing, but even the large clank of seven pairs of feet hitting metal barely made a dint in the roar of the room. Looking down, Amy saw the source for the majority of the noise; what looked like a river running beneath their feet which in normal circumstances could probably be described as white water, if it had in fact been either white or water. As things stood the liquid was a sickly green, turned into a frothing mass by intense heat and stirring. The Doctor had told her that it was a very expensive, very desirable chemical that was necessary in the production of hyperdrive batteries. Less desirable was the tonnes of toxic by-product it produced, which was currently being dumped right into the oceans of this poor planet against its residents' permission.

The Maybe-Doctor grunted in disappointment. Then he ordered to be lead to the central controls.

He began to 'interrogate' her. Amy had to strain to hear his voice, so she doubted that her guards could make out anything but the gist of the conversation, but it was still important to put on a show. "When did you first break into the facility?"

"A couple of hours ago. Not sure of the exact time."

"What about your...companion? The other perpetrator. In your own words, describe him."

She did. She described his floppy mop of untameable hair, the fact he had no eye-brows, and that he always wore tweed and a bow-tie. The Maybe-Doctor digested the information in silence, and it was impossible to see what he was feeling. If he really was a past body of the Doctor, Amy imagined this must be weird for him, to hear a description of what he would one-day be like. Eventually he nodded. "You're a very cooperative prisoner."

_Too cooperative. _Amy understood the warning. She couldn't let the guards think they were working together.

"Now, do you have an escape vehicle nearby?"

"Not telling." Amy jutted her chin out in a way she hoped was suitably dramatic.

The Maybe-Doctor pulled her close, a threatening scowl on his face. His hand dug deeper into her arm. It didn't hurt, not much, but to the guards watching it would think it looked much worse than it was. That didn't make Amy feel any more comfortable, so close to this stranger's face. "You _will_ tell."

She pretended to look scared. "Okay, fine! I do."

"Is it close by?"

"Near enough."

"After we're done here, you'll take me to it." She glared at him. Idiot. Did he honestly think she'd need to be told that? He didn't notice, because he was already talking to the head guard. "How far away is this thing?"

"Right here, sir," and he did not lie. They turned a corner and they were there.

It was a large, circular platform, one which felt sturdier than the rest, though perhaps that was only because the metal floor was no longer made out of grill, and it felt a great deal more reassuring not to see the vast drop below your feet. Three quarters of the circumference was a console, covered in a great deal of levers, buttons and screens. Amy tried to focus on seeing what was directly beneath her, figuring that if she had to shut this thing off, she'd have a better chance breaking it manually than dealing with all those buttons. It seemed that the Maybe-Doctor understood her intentions, because his nonchalant inspecting of equipment brought them towards the side; there Amy saw that beneath them who a humongous pit, filled with tumbling liquid and the hiss of various other chemicals being poured into the mixture. The only thing separating herself and the poisonous brew was a few centimetres of metal railing.

Most people would have felt the sway of nausea at the thought. If Amy was being completely honest, she would have admitted that she did, too. But mostly she was thinking about just how easy it would be to drop a couple of pink tusks down there.

"Have you taken readings on the chemicals today?"

"I...I don't know, sir. That's the scientists' job. We're just here to guard it."

"Right, then. I'll need to go down there at take some readings. Use this." He put the tusks and equipment down, terribly close to the edge of the console, and broke some weird reader off from a monitor. At least, Amy saw him break it off. From the guards' limited point of view, it probably seemed that he'd only picked it up. "It's very simple to use. I'm sure that even you will be able to work it out."

He pointed down to some stairs leading down, cut off from the base proper by a metal gate. The guards shared some glances. They didn't like this. Even the most obedient were beginning to become suspicious. Amy could almost imagine the gears turning in their heads. Was it worth the risk of not listening to him?

They obviously decided that it wasn't, so they wandered down the stairs. The female guard hung back, her eyes on Amy, but she was silenced by the piercing look on the Maybe-Doctor's face.

So they were left alone. Time to activate the plan.

Amy immediately broke free of the man's weak grip and ran to the side where the Maybe-Doctor had left the tusk, and head-butted it, watching it tumble down into the liquid below.

Okay, maybe she moved too fast. Because the guards were barely half-way down the stairs by that point. They might not have seen the tusk's descent, but it sure seemed like they somehow heard its splash over the turbulent roar- and quite suddenly, they were racing back up. "Why'd you do that for?" hissed the Maybe-Doctor, as he scrambled to get the gate and secure it.

So she'd made a mistake. Not the first time that had happened. She was bright enough to know how to make up for it. As the Maybe-Doctor was securing the gate, she ran over as fast as possible, and tried to take the remaining tusks. This was proving to be rather difficult since her hands were currently forced behind her back, and the man beside her seemed rather preoccupied in blocking the guards.

Said guards were shouting now. Amy remembered they had guns.

There was much fumbling and cursing involved, but finally Amy managed to get the other tusks, and drop them over the edge. She looked over her back just in time to see them fall; unfortunately, this also allowed her to see the guards. They could see her, too. There was the sound of a laser gun, and she managed to duck just in time.

"I need you to vibrate the enantimors in the solution!" her companion shouted.

"And what's that when it's at home?"

"Get the sub-transistor! Hold down the green and blue buttons at the same time, and point it down at the vats."

She scrambled towards the device, which was lying near the floor, right next to the man. She would have asked, "why don't you do it?", except he was somewhat busy executing a rather busy procedure involving both hands and a nose on the console surrounding him. There was the sound of more gun blasts. Thank God the guards' were lousy shots.

Finally, she had the sub-transistor in her grip, but she saw the problem almost immediately. There _was_ a green button and there was a blue button. Unfortunately, they were at completely different ends. The rod was only the length of her forearm, but her two hands were currently secured to her back, and all her fingers were able to do were flail like thelegs of two spiders glued together. A quick experiment confirmed what her eyes had suggested; there was no way for her to hold both buttons at the same time.

"Help!" she said, trying to keep the panic from her voice, even over the yells and pounding of the five guards trying to break down the gate between them. The man glanced over. "Take off the cuffs!"

"On it." The man extracted a long, blue mechanical stick from his leather jacket. He pressed it to the cuffs, and it made a familiar whirring sound. Once the sonic screwdriver fell silent, Amy pulled at her cuffs, ready to break free.

But nothing happened.

"Well, that worked great," Amy said, as she tugged frantically at the hand-cuffs.

The Maybe-Doctor grunted. "Fantastic. They're dead-locked sealed."

"Dead locked sealed? Isn't that the one thing that-"

"Sonic Screwdrivers can't unlock? Yes."

"Wonderful. So what do we do now?"

The Doctor grinned at her, with a smile so wonderfully alive and ecstatic, even while surrounded by the sound of angry enemies- or, Amy amended, _because_ of them. "Now, we improvise."

oOoOoOoOo

The two humans entered the TARDIS with a feeling of trepidation, which was unusual. Normally the ship was their safe haven, a place of both safety and adventure. But never before had Rose or Jack brought a potential enemy on board without permission, and they were obviously having second thoughts about their decision to bring the strangely intelligent cat inside.

Embers was currently struggling in Rose's arms, trying to break free. "Stop," she commanded. "You promised to stay there."

The cat did as it was told. Jack walked up to the console, while Rose stayed cautiously near the door, not wanting to bring the animal too far in. Logic told her that even if the cat had bad intentions, it couldn't _do_ anything substantial with the ship, not when a man as tall as the Doctor needed with a mallet, string, opposable thumbs and two crew-mates just to get them in the right time period alive. She didn't want to risk it, though.

Rose glanced at Jack, and she could see the same question on his mind. _What now?_

They'd barely finished thinking it when at the console, something beeped. The humans turned to look; it was one of the screens, flashing lights and noises. Rose regarded it warily. She never understood anything on that monitor- it was always numbers and diagrams and languages that didn't translate.

"What's that mean?" she asked Jack as she took a few steps forward. He was more familiar with these kinds of things.

"Nothing...I don't think... Wait." There was more furious beeping. "There!"

_Jack, Rose. This is the Doctor. _

The screen displayed the words in white all-capital letters.

"Doctor? Where are you?"

Rose wasn't sure if she expected a reply. She got one, anyway.

_In the TARDIS, where else?_

Jack looked annoyed. "Well, we can't exactly see you, can we?"

_Or hear me, I noticed. Thankfully this cat was a titch more aware than you two, and kindly offered to help. _

Rose looked down startled. Embers had stopped shifting, but had taken to glaring at her in a rather put-upon expression. "So...you're not the cat?"

_No, don't be silly. I'm in an incorporeal form. Well, not really. While I do have a corporal form, it currently seems to be scattered throughout four dimensions, which is a bit of a bother. Only my physic powers are to interact meaningfully with the physical world. But you lot are useless at physic messaging. No offense. You see, _the words flashed quickly on the screen the moment Rose opened her mouth, _cats have a natural aptitude for physic communication. That's why they gained such a reputation for witchcraft; they flocked to any human who showed the slightest aptitude in the ability. _

Well, a long, rambling explanation like that certainly could be the Doctor's, Rose supposed, but it was still hard to be sure that anything this...presence was saying. She looked at Jack, whose background as a Time Agent had given him more experience in this area. "Is he telling the truth?"

"I think so." The captain shrugged. "Cats were never given much employ at the Agency- great at physic abilities, rubbish at time travel. Still- Doctor, _if_ that's you, try to say something." He looked away from the screen, wearing a look of concentration. There were a few moments of intense silence, and then;

"'Bleedle blarble beedle leedle on the moon. Satisfied?'" Jack spoke like he was quoting words, just second after they appeared on the screen behind his turned back. "Yeah, I can hear you. It's just kind of...blurry."

_Blurry human minds, that about sums it up._

The humans glared at the computer. "I hope that was a joking tone," Rose muttered.

"Okay, Doc," said Jack. "How did this happen to you? And more importantly, how can we fix it?"

It took a worryingly long time for the message to appear on screen. _I don't know, _the Doctor admitted. _My memory's gone a bit fuzzy, to be honest. Temporal readjustment can do that to you._

Rose grew tense, her face pulling into an expression of worry. The cat clawed in annoyance, but the girl barely seemed to notice. Jack remained calm, but maybe it was just better at hiding his emotions. "Well, do you have any idea how to fix it?"

_Pretty good idea. _

"Okay, then, what's the plan?" asked Rose.

_Well, it's fairly simple, really. You see, there was a scattering of temporal co-ordinates resulting in a mixing of the linear regression of_...what followed was several sentences of extreme techno-babble that were so patently ridiculous that they do not need repeating here. Rose regarded the screen with a faintly confused look, wondering if the Doctor would be any more perceptive without a body, while Jack stared in rapt-attention. Before he had come along, the earth-girl had frankly wondered if the Time Lord just made all this stuff up to impress her. Eventually the ex-conman translated for her. "Basically, there was a big boom and the Doctor's been a little bit scattered."

"What's that supposed to mean? Like- his body is separated from his mind, or what?"

"Er. More like his body has been separated from his minds. Plural."

"What?"

"Relax," Jack said, as there was a hurried beeping from the screen. He didn't look very relaxed; his muscles were tense, and his mouth was pursed in a worried frown.

"What do you mean, minds? How can you have more than one?"

_I do have one. It's just been a little fractured, is all._

"A little bit fractured," Rose repeated. Sometimes she couldn't believe the life she was living. She recalled something she'd read in school (well, studied would be a more accurate description, since she hadn't really _read_ the whole thing). Jekyll and Hyde. "So- like, what? By different personalities?" Having experienced his angry mode, Rose figured she was currently talking to the Dr. Jekyll.

She pitied anyone who encountered his Mr. Hyde.

_No. Not by personalities, or anything. We're- I'm- just weaker, and a little bit muddled. It's more like I've been copied and diluted. _

"Right." Rose didn't quite understand. How could a person be...less of themself? Especially someone as _big_ as the Doctor? "Have you seen anything like this before?"

_Yes, actually!_

"Oh?" said Jack, in the interested sounded voice of someone trying to hide their real feelings.

_Oh, yes. Paris, 1979. A Jagaroth named Scaroth. Explosion split him into twelve parts._

"And...how did that workout?"

_He, um. Well. He died. But the explosion created all the life on Earth, so that's a plus. _Obviously realising that this didn't inspire much confidence in his companions, the Doctor backtracked. _But don't worry! I'm much cleverer than him. Besides, I think I'm only split into two parts, so there's that._

Rose gulped. "So...can you fix it?"

_Oh, yes. I think so, and I'm very good at thinking. _

"I noticed," said Jack. "So, what should we do?"

_Well, the trick lies in finding the other me. Scaroth could communicate with his other selves. The explosion I seem to have been in must have been sufficiently different, though, because I can't get any sense of other selves. Or maybe that's just me...very different physiology, my species. Interesting how that explosion gifted a Jagaroth with such physic prowess, even if just limited to himself, they're usually so..._

"Doctor," interrupted Rose. "Focus."

_Oh, yes. Right! Sorry. Anyway, I need to track my other self down. The TARDIS should be able to do that. She's already tuned in to me, it'll just take a little rewiring. From then on, it should be smooth sailing._

Rose doubted that. It was never smooth sailing, not even when they were doing something as simple as picking up some milk. Searching for the Doctor's fractured mind, easy? Don't make her laugh. Still, she bounced with excitement to the console, the cat in her arms finally giving up and springing to the floor. She smiled thanks towards it; whatever that ragged little thing might look like, it had been kind and helped the Doctor. "Thank you," she whispered to it, wishing she could communicate with it too. Then she turned to the screen. "Okay, let's get started."

_Don't you want to say bye to your mum first?_

Rose stared in surprise at the message. "Um, yeah. Sure."

That was unexpected, coming from the Doctor. This man, who had faced armies and demons, usually ran from her mother with all the fear and disgust he could possess. He had a point though. If she left without telling Jackie, Rose would be eaten alive the next time she popped in or called. Besides, mum did have all her clothes.

That didn't mean that she fancied having to explain the situation.

Still, the girl said goodbye, promising only to be ten minutes, and ordering them not to leave without her. Jack watched her jog out the TARDIS doors, and could almost feel the Doctor's presence doing the same. The doors closed with a loud click, and he turned immediately to the console again.

"Okay, Doc. What should I do?"

It was surprisingly awkward to have a conversation with someone you couldn't see. It made it difficult to know where to look. And until you were missing a body, you never realised how much you relied on expression and movement to judge the conversation. Even if he could get the whispers of emotion through their tenuous physic link, Jack felt like he was trying to solve a puzzle with only half of the pieces.

Still, they were communicating. And that was more than enough to get the job done. Rose had barely left the ship before Jack was immediately at work; beneath the console, all he could see was a sky of circuitry. Honestly, it was a little overwhelming, although he would never admit as much. He'd never exactly been a techie, but the Agency had trained him well, to the point that he could probably fix any ship or vortex manipulator, no matter where or when he got stranded. But the TARDIS' technology was light-years ahead of anything Time Agents could even dream of. The Doctor had been teaching him about the ship for weeks now, something that he felt very privileged for, but he was nowhere near skilled. Without the physic presence guiding him, Jack would have been lost within minutes.

They worked diligently, rewiring circuits, shifting wires, changing settings. The Doctor's voice spoke in his mind, helping and correcting.

Except, it wasn't really a voice. It was more like a _thought_ of a voice. And if Jack admitted it, the voice was...wrong.

No, not wrong. The correct word was _different_. He'd been trying to put a finger on the sensation ever since he'd first come back into the TARDIS. The spirit claimed to be the Doctor, and he believed it. The way he acted, the things he knew- Jack doubted that there were many other beings in the universe which were like that. Besides, the feeling in his mind was most definitely the Doctor's. A physic connection is formed of feelings and sensations, and that light and quick voice in Jack's head held all the same age, knowledge and power his physical presence always commanded. It just _felt_ different from what Jack expected. He would have imagined the feeling of leather, the smell of ashes, a sturdy, harsher presence than the once he was experiencing. This was far quicker and lighter than what he would have imagined.

He was the Doctor, though. Jack couldn't doubt that. As he pushed another lever he told himself to stop worrying. If there was something wrong, what else could you expect with a scattered mind?

Rose came back an hour later than she said she would, carrying camping-pack on her back, filled with all her clothes, and arms laden with groceries. She dropped them near the door, obviously figuring that they could sort it out properly once most pressing matters were dealt with. "She wouldn't let me leave," she complained. Then her voice softened. "She's worried."

Considering the life they lead, Jack didn't blame Jackie. "She's letting you come, though," he pointed out. That's what a good parent did. Let their child go.

And go they did. "Ready, Doc?"

_Yes. Yep, everything is in order. Rose, go press down that button over there, hold it down for fifteen second intervals after spaces of ten seconds. You might need to toggle that switch at the same time. Jack, go stand on that pedal. Now, when you get it, there might be a bit of a shudder, so hold on..._

Jack pressed the pedal. There was more than just a shudder; the whole ship buckled and swayed, and the two humans yelled as they tried to stay on their feet. The brilliant noise of dematerialisation surrounded them, among the halting groan of a tracking signal. And like a whisper in his ear, Jack heard the Doctor's mind shout;

_Geronimo!_

oOoOoOoOo

The Smith-Jones had finished supper quickly, and Martha had given dish-washing duty to her husband. Ever since the dishwasher had been destroyed in an invasion of possessed soap last month, they'd been taking turns with the messy cutlery until they found time to get a new one. Technically, tonight it was Martha's turn, but she pointed out the flaw of having the woman whose hands were dripping with germs cleaning their plates. Mickey had sent her to their room with minimal complaining, pointing out that she still had to deal with UNIT.

She trudged into the room, and collapsed onto the bed. She didn't want to work. She wanted to sleep. Maybe she would be able to get this done quickly and slink off for the night. Unfortunately, the universe did not seem to like this plan, since when she reached for the laptop she cursed in anger.

It was off. Martha looked for the cable; it had fallen to the floor. It must have run out of batteries and died. Marbles stood at the edge of the bed. She glared at him. "Did you do this?"

The cat mewed angrily and swept its tail. Martha shook her head. Of course he hadn't. Supper had only taken a little longer than an hour, hardly enough time for the power to run out. She must have let it fallen out some point in the day, and not noticed. That didn't make her feel any better, just guilty. She plugged in power cable in angrily, glaring bitterly at the screen as it took an infinitely long time to turn on. She began to feel a head-ache approach, adding to her many pains.

Finally, it loaded, and she immediately opened up her documents. She felt a wave of relief; they'd all auto-saved. She investigated, and quickly discovered that the losses had been minimal. Her spreadsheets had only lost the last few changes, and most of her documents were intact.

"What's this?" she muttered, looking down at the bottom of her long letter drafted to the head of UNIT's diplomatic ambassador for the Shadow Proclamation. In the middle of the penultimate paragraph was a whole string of gibberish. 'sonisrewdiver itmeant. im the dr imin teh catstop ingronig me.' She stared at it for a moment, thinking that she might have gotten a glimmer of sense in the words, before deciding that yes, this really was just gibberish. Marbles must have walked across the keyboard. She deleted it quickly.

The cat glared at her from the dresser, and Martha almost swore she heard a sigh.

She sighed herself when she realised that now she would actually have to get to work- and worst, first have to repeat things she had already done. She was not in the mood for this.

Still, it was something that had to be done, just like bills or stopping the Earth from being destroyed. So she propped herself up with some pillows, popped a throat lozenge into her mouth, and settled in for the long haul.

However, it was a well known fact that no matter the mind's intentions, the body can be traitorous. Barely half an hour passed before Martha began to fall asleep, even as she stared at the screen. She was uncomfortably hot, both from the computer on her lap, and the fever, but felt too exhausting to even go and turn the air-conditioner on. The sensible part of her brain told her to just give up and properly go to bed, while a more silly part told her to wait until Mickey came up and ordered her to. So in a drowsy haze she resolutely continued typing away.

She didn't notice when Marbles stood erect at the end of the bed, like a sentinel.

At first, she didn't even notice the wheezing. In her sleepy head she just assumed it was the sound of her own laboured breathing. But the sound continued, rising and falling, and finally recognition flared. Though it might not sound like it, that groaning noise was the most beautiful sound in the universe, and Martha felt that not even a coma could stop that excited tingle when she heard it.

Forgetting the paperwork, forgetting how tired she was, Martha jumped from the bed as a blue box appeared in her room with a clang.

oOoOoOoOo

"Rory, relax. Are you okay?"

Seeing the Doctor's worried eyes staring at him, he managed a shaky smile.

The Doctor looked relieved. "Knew it. Takes more than a bit of a physic dive to hurt you, eh? I should have been paying better attention, anyway. My fault."

Rory was breathing deeply, relishing the feeling of his own body. Even the ache in his head and the bruises at his side felt good, because Rory knew they were his own. Nothing could quite compare to the shock of finding yourself swept away in the sensations and memories of another body.

_Memories. _Suddenly the obvious hit him. "I...I don't remember anything new."

"Yeah," the Doctor said softly. "I know. I looked all through your head, searched very deep, deeper than I think I've ever gone into a human mind. But, well...I couldn't find any sign of them."

"Oh." Rory would have said something else, if his mouth hadn't felt full of bitterness.

"I went everywhere. Dreams, subconscious, short term _and_ long term memory storage. Everywhere." The Doctor almost looked impressed, enthralled. "I mean, it's amazing. I've never seen anything like it. You see, Rory, you can't just change a mind with no consequences. The human brain is like a slate-"

"A tabula rasa? A blank slate?"

"No, that's the point. Once you write something on a slate, you can never really get it clean again. If a physic intruder or drug wipes memories, they'll still leave traces. They can be hidden, in distant corners of your mind, or under many layers, but you can still find them, and hopefully repair them. But in this case..." The Doctor swept a hand through his hair. "Nothing."

"So. That's it, then?"

The Doctor gave him a piercing stare. "No. No, this isn't it. You can't give up, Rory. Memories don't just vanish. We just need to find the person who took them from you. They'll know where they are. So, Rory, you have to tell me. The feeling you felt when I was going through your head- have you ever felt anything like that before?"

Rory had to bite back his frustration. No, he had never felt anything like that, he'd never done anything like this before...

But wait. "Yes...actually. I think so."

"Okay, good. Do you remember where? When?"

Rory closed his eyes, trying to pin-point what exactly he'd been feeling until it dawned on him. "Here. Ever since I woke up, it's felt like I've been watched..."

The expression on the Doctor's face was one of the most serious Rory had ever seen. His eyes were cold and deep, and looking at them he could almost being instead the man's mind again. His muscles tensed. "Here? On board the TARDIS?"

"Yeah. Here. I thought I was imagining things, but...well, it just hangs there. Watching me."

The Doctor regarded him seriously, until a look an understanding slowly crept over his features.

"Ah. Right. Of course." He coughed awkwardly. "Um, I think that's the TARDIS, actually."

"...your ship?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Your ship is _in my mind_?"

"Yes," he said offhandedly, though he did eventually notice Rory's shocked expression. "Listen, it's no big deal. She doesn't want to hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact. She had been feeling worried for hours, ever since you were injured."

Rory found himself fighting to keep calm once again. His breathing felt shallow. "Okay, right...the blue box is alive...the blue box is reading my mind." He hoped saying it out-loud would make it seem more rational. "It- she- didn't even ask permission."

"She didn't need to," the Doctor said, as tenderly as possible. "That would be like someone asking permission to _look_ at you. It just the way she sees the world."

Rory closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. This was probably just one of those things that he'd have to accept. Except he'd been accepting an awful lot today, and a man had his limits to the impossible things he could believe. To his credit, the Doctor was silent, for the first time all day. He seemed to realise the human needed some breathing space, even though the wait obviously seemed to pain him.

After a few long moments, Rory opened his eyes.

"Okay," said the Doctor. "I need to ask you again. Do you remember anything else invading your mind? Anything else but the TARDIS?"

"I don't know," Rory said. He tried to remember. But all his memories before waking up were either a blur, or peaceful, normal ones, of living in Leadworth. "No, I can't."

The Doctor looked strained. And suddenly, very, very old. "Please, Rory. You have to try."

"I _am_! That's all I've been doing since I woke up!" The words burst angrily. "But I'm not used to this, okay? And I'm telling you, besides you and your mind-reading ship, I've never felt anything like that in my life!"

"No clues? No clues at _all_?"

"That's what I said!"

Finally, frustration seemed to grab hold of the Doctor, too. He turned away, stomping around the console. "Great! No clues, no evidence, no starting position- we don't have time to track down a rogue physic!"

"Why not? You have a time-machine." The Doctor looked away, quickly, but not quick enough for Rory not to see the expression of guilt that flashed on his face. "Doctor, why not?"

There was a moment of silence. Then, he said;

"Amy."

_Amy?_ Fear flashed through him."What about her?"

"Nothing." The Doctor had gotten up, plastered a too wide smile on his face. "Nothing about Amy. We've just got to find her, okay? She's expecting us. That comes first."

"Doctor- _stop lying to me_. I want the truth." He had so little else. He didn't know why he was travelling on this ship. He didn't know how he had gotten there. He didn't know this man. But he knew his girlfriend. "What do you mean, Amy's expecting us? Why do we need to find her?"

The Doctor stopped. Turned. His expression was pained.

"Amy's been kidnapped."

"_What_?"

The Doctor spoke on, not looking at Rory. "It happened months ago. None of us realised- not even she did. Finally, I worked it out. We've spent the last few weeks tracking her down and recruiting help."

"Recruiting help! You have a time machine! Why can't you just materialise, or whatever, and save her?"

"They know about the TARDIS. They've got amazing technology. She's protected. A whole army is surrounding her."

"An army?" Rory's heart thudded in his chest. She imagined his girlfriend, bound and gagged, surrounded by hundreds of guns and uniforms, unable to escape. "What would an army want with her?" The guilty look on the Doctor's face told him everything. "It's you, isn't it? They want to get at you- so they kidnapped her!

"Well, I'm not taking this!" Rory stood up abruptly, trying to stop his shaking. "Do you expect me to just- just _deal_ with all this? I've woken up to a nightmare! No, don't you say anything. This is all your fault. I don't care if you are bloody 'friendly', or whatever, it's because of you that I have amnesia and Amy's been kidnapped. Just try to tell me otherwise!"

The Doctor opened his mouth, but then hesitated. He looked lost.

"Just what I thought," Rory muttered. And with that he walked away, up the stairs, in into the depths of the TARDIS, not even hearing the calls for him to stop. He was too busy trying not to cry.

oOoOoOoOo

**Author's Note: **

Poor Rory. I love him, I really do, but without all that character development, he's really not suited for this kind of life.

If anyone's wondering why I chose cats as the animal to channel the Doctor, it's not just that I really like them. Rather, when I was first coming up with the idea for this story, I had Chameleon Circuit's song 'Kiss The Girl' stuck in my head. The line "cause you're talking to a cat, and everybody loves you...' was stuck on a seemingly infinite loop in my head. Plot bunnies are born of strange places.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. It took longer to write than expected, and I've been rather busy of late. On the bright side, this meant that I got to see the new episode before posting, and have been able to make a couple of slight improvements in light of what we learned from it.

That being said; there will be slight spoilers for "Let's Kill Hitler". Nothing major, but still.

**Chapter 5:**

oOoOoOoOo

Rose felt a shuddering thud as the TARDIS landed. She felt the familiar tingle of excitement, even if this time she was mixed with far more worry than usual. _Okay, this should be it, _the Doctor wrote.

Jack took a cursory look at the sensors, just to check where they were. (This had become routine ever since the Doctor had once landed the TARDIS five miles under the water. It had taken weeks to get all the fish out of the wardrobe room). Once they had determined that they were on Earth, and more importantly, somewhere habitable, they bounded to the door, with only the most private worries that the Doctor's split mind wasn't hidden in the middle of a battlefield.

Jack decided to go first and cautiously swung it open. It was somewhat anti-climactic to find themselves staring into someone's bedroom.

A black woman was standing there, and her face broke into a large smile when she saw the Captain. "Jack!" She stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. "Isn't this a surprise?"

"Tell me about it," he said. Jack sounded suave, but Rose could notice the confusion that he kept carefully hidden. But before he could say anything else, the woman noticed Rose, who had stepped forward.

Her brow furrowed. "Rose?"

The girl stopped in surprise. She could maybe expect that his woman would know Jack, what with his rather mysterious past, but _she_ had never seen this woman in her life.

"We seem to be at somewhat of a disadvantage," said Jack, as gallantly as possible. "You seem to know our names, but you are?"

"What do you mean? I'm Mar..." she trailed off, looking confused. Then something bordering understanding seemed to dawn on her face. "Do you really not know who I am?"

"Never seen you in my life," confirmed Jack.

"Right. And how long would that life be, exactly?"

Rose and Jack exchanged glances at the odd question. "Um...about thirty-eight years, I guess."

Neither of them could read the expression on the strange woman's face.

There was the sound of feet pounding on the floor, and another man came thundering into the room. Water dripped from his hands. He looked around with an excited expression. "I thought I heard the TARDIS! Jack!" He smile became even larger when he saw the other woman in the room. "Rose!"'

She could only stare. Because recognition had clicked inside Rose's mind. She knew this man- this big, muscled man, dressed in black and with a scraggly beard. It was _Mickey._

"What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her gaping expression. "Do I have soap on my face? What are you doing here, anyway? And where's the Doctor?"

"I think," said Jack, carefully, "We've gotten ourselves into a little bit of a mix-up here."

Mickey and the strange woman exchanged glances, and a wordless communication passed between them. Mickey sighed. "Just once I'd like the Doctor to appear for something normal. Just once."

oOoOoOoOo

Once again, Rory found himself wandering around the TARDIS halls.

Now he knew where he was. He had been told he wasn't in danger. But he didn't feel any safer than before. He wasn't sure where he was going. Before, he'd had a goal in mind, even if it was only one as vague as 'escape'. He still wanted that, but seeing as he was floating in a sentient ship in the void of space, he figured that was probably not going to happen. So he settled for putting as much space between him and once-imaginary friend as possible.

Eventually, he found himself in front of a door. He stopped, although he was not completely certain why. Rory had already passed a few in his haste to get away. After he had curiously peered into had been filled with tanks of very strange looking almost-fish, he'd been freaked out completely, and had become determined to ignore the rest. Suddenly, though, he realised how exhausted he was, and he wanted nothing more than to look inside and hope that he'd found a place he could sleep and hide.

Opening the door, Rory was pleased to find that was exactly where he'd found himself. Inside was a bed-room, the walls painted a beautiful blue, filled with ornate Victorian styled furniture. There was a bed, and Rory thought for a moment that was all he could want.

Until he realised the bed's covers were a mess. They'd been thrown into disarray, the streets messy on the floor. Coming closer to inspect them, he found they were also dirty, covered in mud. That made him pause, and think- looking down at his arms, he realised he was more than a little bit dirty himself. With sudden realisation, it clicked. This was the bed he had woken up in. He hadn't recognised it at first; it had been dark, and he had been confused, but now it seemed obvious. His body remembered the walls he'd stumbled along t in the dark, and looking back out into the corridor, this was where he'd first found himself.

But- but that made no sense. Originally he'd been wandering around for ages before he'd finally found himself here. How could he come to the same place in a couple of minutes? It was almost like he'd been guided...

Rory remembered that the ship was alive. With a shudder, he tapped his head, as if checking that nothing but his own mind was inside it.

So, this was the room he had woken up in- but was it _his_ room? If the Doctor was telling the truth and they did travel together, presumably he had somewhere to sleep.

Rory began investigating by opening the curtains to some windows, not quite sure what to expect. Maybe a view of stars stretching out in front of him? Instead, he found himself looking at a small walled garden, with herbs and plants and even a little bird bath. He stared in amazement. Had they landed somewhere else? Or was this garden inside the ship, too? Was that even possible? There seemed to be sunlight, but looking out, Rory couldn't discern where exactly it was coming from.

Actually, where did _any_ of the light come from? The room didn't have any lamps. He noticed how when he'd opened the curtains they room had automatically become dimmer. Geez, that was creepy.

Not feeling much reassured, he headed off the dresser, passing the bed's side table on the way. The items laying on the stand could have been either his or Amy's. There was a watch, and a glass of water, and a book. Closer inspection showed that it was a copy of the complete adventures of Sherlock Holmes. First edition. Signed by Sir Arthur Connan Doyle. It barely looked a year old. He put it down with a grimace, not quite sure what to think.

Right, then. The wardrobe. He opened it tentatively, slightly afraid that he'd find anything from a Magical Land of Talking Lions to a skeleton in there. To his relief, it was filled with nothing but clothes. Some of them he definitely recognised. That there was his favourite vest, though looking slightly more worn than he remembered, and there was one of his old t-shirts. Amy's red scarf was hanging on a hook, and he suspected that one of those pairs of shoes were the ones she'd spent an hour eying up last time she'd dragged him shopping. Of course, there were many articles of clothing he had never seen in his life, but Rory quickly discovered that all the male clothing would have fit him perfectly.

There were some things that just didn't make any sense, especially for his closet. Why would Amy have brought along (an admittedly) sexy police woman's uniform? And Rory had absolutely _no idea_ why he would have actual metal armour and sword lying right next to the jeans.

Finally, he shut the closet, and rubbed his face.

This was all just so...so weird. In a way, it was almost stranger than everything else that had happened today. That was all just- _stuff_. He'd read or watched plenty of science-fiction and fantasy. How many times had he read about the average every-dude who suddenly found himself with super powers or destined to save the world? Hundreds of time. It was like pop-culture had been training him for something like this to happen. Hell, it was just like suddenly waking up to find all his childhood games with Amy were true.

But this- this was something different entirely. It was like whenever you found yourself in a near stranger's house or office. You wandered around the place, interested, but not sure how to interact with all these private bits from his or her life. Standing there, Rory realised he'd become a stranger to himself.

Nowhere was this more apparent than on the chesterfield, lined with all the little ornaments and pieces that life collects. There was incredibly fancy looking perfume bottle. There were bracelets that emitted a low hum, an actual quill with ink, a rather creepy robotic head, and a plastic twirling thing that Rory couldn't even guess at the purpose of. He poked it tentatively. It didn't hurt him. He supposed that he wouldn't have put anything in the room that was dangerous.

It was with this hypothesis in mind that he picked up a strange, metallic flat disk that lay in the palm of his hand. It was a rather dull white colour, and didn't seem to have much use but to take up space. When he picked it up, though, it flickered with life, and a three-dimensional picture seemed to shiver in the air. A hologram, Rory realised immediately, and in the picture it was himself. Him, and Amy, and even the Doctor, wearing what had to be exactly the same tweed suit. It wasn't just a picture, however, but a few moments played on a loop. The tiny replicas of light appeared to be standing somewhere sunny, grinning stupidly at the camera or whatever device took the shot. Then the Doctor saw something out of frame; his eyes went all wide, and he leaned out of the hologram, only for Amy to roughly pull him back in by his collar, wrapping her arms around her two boys.

Rory moved his hand slightly, and the scene changed. This one was of just him, with his feet stuck in some goo in what looked like a space-port; Rory watched himself look up, and notice that someone was filming him before recoiling in embarrassment.

More moments went by, and Rory watched, entranced. The detail was amazing, like he'd just been thrown into an HD documentary about his own life. But everything was just fragments, making no more sense than the memories he had picked up inside the Doctor's head, although thankfully with less emotional baggage. There was no context for these moments, no explanation. No way for him to gauge what his life had become.

But then, Rory supposed he must be happy, right? _I mean, we're smiling, in most of the holograms. Grinning._ 'Course, the Doctor kept getting distracted and wandered out of half the photos, and Amy's the only one who seemed to be smiling in every one. But then, why wouldn't she be? This was here dream. Her raggedy Doctor had finally taken her away in a Time Machine.

As he thought it, the picture changed. And there was he and Amy, together. His breath hitched, because this isn't just any scene. He was wearing a grey suit and Amy was in a bridal gown, her red-hair brilliant against the white dress. They were smiling, both of them, looking so incredibly happy.

_That's right._ The Doctor had mentioned it, but he'd been too confused to really take notice. He was married. There had been a stag night and a wedding day and a dress and _everything_. **Married.**

That was...that was hard to believe. Amy was- well, she was his world. They'd been best friends forever. But that was it.

Rory wished it was more. He couldn't remember ever really feeling anything for another girl or guy in his entire life. He noticed when they were good looking or hot, but in a dispassionate way. He couldn't imagine holding hands with them, or kissing, or lying in bed together. The only person he could imagine doing as much with was Amy. Sometimes, he wanted her so much that he seemed to ache. But the problem was that she didn't seem to feel the same way for him. Their friend Mel said that he was stupid, and he should just tell her, but that was _wrong_. The romantic in Rory protested that you couldn't just tell someone that you were in love with them….you had to move into it, slowly. He wasn't asking for eyes locking across the room or sudden inspiration in the middle of the night- (life wasn't a romance novel)- but something more dignified than him stutteringly explaining his feelings.

Besides….it was all too easy for Mel. She didn't care what anybody thought. But Rory did, very much, care what Amy thought about him, and he was petrified with fear to think that she would tell him, straight out, that she didn't return his feelings.

But…she did. Or she would. Or had. The difficulties of tenses aside….they were married. _Married_. Rory looked into the picture, absorbing every detail of it. Amy looked older, but not in a bad way. She seemed more mature, more adult.

This wasn't a kid, this was a woman. A woman who had flown away in a box and seen the universe. The picture changed again, and Rory was reminded of the things she must have seen. A time-machine! A space-ship! Adventures that he could only imagine.

But now...now she was kidnapped. Shivering, Rory suddenly recalled the memory which he'd taken from the Doctor's head; he could see Amy, standing in the centre of the console room. He could see her terrified expression. Far too real, he could hear her asking for an explanation, pleading for her husband to stand by her, and watched from a stranger's eyes as he disobeyed, and stepped back. The Time Lord's memory was almost painful to experience, filled with a hundred extra senses that a human brain couldn't even begin to understand, but even that wasn't nearly as overwhelming as the expression of pure terror on Amy's face as her body collapsed into a white liquid. Somewhere, out there, she was all alone. She was in danger.

And what was he doing? Cowering in his room.

_Well, what else am I supposed to do? _One part of him said. He hadn't asked for this. He had chosen any of this to happen. He was just human. A human kid, really. He couldn't be expected to fight an army.

But he had. He might not remember, but he had chosen this life.

And he was married. He'd said the vows. And once again, even if he didn't remember, he knew what they were and what they meant. He couldn't just sit here, with Amy in danger, doing nothing.

Rory placed the hologram disk back down on the desk. He took a deep breath and tried to feel brave. It didn't seem to work much, but that didn't stop him from turning back towards the door, and preparing to find the Doctor again.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Several hours after first landing in Mickey's bedroom, Rose found herself sitting on the floor, wires in her lap and a solder gun in hand.

She'd never been particularly skilled at physics, especially alien physics which might as well be magic to her. But once she was given instructions, Rose didn't find it all that hard to put some different electronic components together. It _could_ be difficult and fiddly, but in a way it was enjoyable to devote yourself completely to a task, and in those moments where her fingers could work without much in the way of higher management, her brain was allowed to be free and consider the position she was in.

The future. She was in the future. Honestly, Rose was a little embarrassed that she hadn't cottoned on to that fact more quickly.

But that was the thing about the future, or at least the near one. If you weren't on a space-station or alien planet, it didn't seem all that radically different from the present. Take the bedroom they were in. At first glance, she easily could have mistaken it for one from 2005. It was only at second glance that you noticed the little inconsistencies. Like how the windows didn't have drapes, but became tinted at the press of a button, or the way the music was controlled by a remote control the size of her finger and a spinning disc instead of buttons. Or the presence of older-Mickey. That was quite a give-away, as well.

It was funny. Rose had been to the future, before. But this didn't quite seem comparable to meeting that Dalek, or even seeing the eventual destruction of the Earth. Those were impersonal trips. New places, new people- not much different from landing on another planet, really. But to see the same people, and see how they'd changed- well, it was kind of like walking down familiar stairs in the dark, but tripping because somebody had changed the height of the steps. Rose had felt that first horrible lurch of fear when she'd realised- had she done it again? Accidently landed in the future, having disappeared for years? Mum must have been worried sick! What could have happened in all that time?

Mickey had consoled her. "It's okay, its fine. You haven't….skipped anything, like last time."

"I haven't?" Rose had asked, with a wave of relief. "But…how does that work?"

Jack had stepped in then. "It's all about the time lines. In some cases, you leap over a few years, in other cases you cross-over, repeat certain moments again. As long as you step lightly and don't avoid paradoxes, you should be fine. What is this 'last time', by the way?"

"It's complicated," Rose and Mickey said at the exact same moment.

"It always is," said a voice.

It was the stranger, the one which had first greeted them when the TARDIS had landed. In all honesty, Rose had almost forgotten about her. Now she really surveyed the lady; she was in her mid-thirties, perhaps, with dark skin and black hair, pulled into a million little braids. Beneath her toned skin she looked somewhat pale, and there were deep circles beneath her eyes, making her look tired and worn. Despite this, she had a playful smile on her face.

They stared at her, and the woman had seemed to notice their confusion. "Ah. Right. Introductions. Always weird to do it a second time- I'm Doctor Martha Smith-Jones. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but that would be a bit redundant." At this moment, she began to cough violently. Once she was finished, she smiled ruefully. "I'd shake your hands, but…"

"You've already hugged me," Jack pointed out. He gave a predatory smile. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

Martha laughed. "You wouldn't."

Rose felt questions budding at her lips- there was something important about this woman, that she hadn't quite put into place, and that was without factoring in everything she had to ask about Mickey. But before she could ask anything, she felt something land on her feet. She glanced down. "Oh, look! You've got a cat, too."

"Oh, yeah," said Mickey, bending down to pick it up. "This is Marbles."

"I wonder if he's got a Doctor attached, too," said Jack.

"Wait- what?"

Rose would have laughed at the expressions on Mickey and Martha's faces, if at that moment a quite loud howl hadn't greeted them as Embers came running out of the blue box, right towards the new cat. The two regarded each other disdainfully. Territories and all that, Rose suspected.

Martha had gotten down onto her knees, and poked her cat questionably. "Doctor?"

"Nah," said Rose. "The cat ain't the Doctor. Just talking through them, right Jack?"

"That's right," said Jack. "By the way, I have two pyshsic voices yelling in my head, telling us to stop dawdling and to get into the TARDIS. They're being quite insistent."

Mickey sighed, and began to wander towards the ship. "Looks like we've got a lot to catch up on."

The next thirty minutes had been complicated, to say the least. Jack and Rose did their best to try and explain everything that had happened to their new recruits- although, to be honest, it was mostly Jack who did all the talking. Rose barely understood what was happening as it was; all she knew that there were now two Doctors, or something. But Mickey and Martha had wanted a more in-depth explanation, and they seemed to understand what Jack told them, even Mickey, much to Rose's surprise. Whatever had happened in the time since she had last seen him, running away in the Cardiff plass, had changed him a lot.

Secretly, Rose suspected that it shouldn't really have taken as long as it did to debrief everyone. Especially since it took about ten seconds to confirm that both Doctors were here. Unfortunately, it was this which seemed to be rather detrimental to the process of doing, well_, anything_.

The Doctor had always been a…big personality. When he was in the room, it sometimes seemed to Rose that he was the only one in it. So suddenly imagine two of them, even if they were 'weaker' or 'diluted' or whatever, both vying for complete attention. And fighting to use the same screen, where all of their words appeared in the same italic type, making it near impossible for anyone reading to follow the track of the conversation.

_Don't be silly, _one Doctor had said. _This couldn't have been caused by an explosion of huon energy, that would have ripped_

_A hole in the space time continuum, I know. But not if it was directed by a _

_Phase Inducer, of course. But where in the universe do you find one of those these days?_

_Well, if you were thinking half-straight, you'd remember that-_

"How can you two fight so much," Mickey had complained. "You're the same person!"

_Oi, _said one of the Doctors, or perhaps both of them at once. _Think about every single decision you've ever made. Try to tell me you wouldn't have a thing or two to say to the person who made them. Still think you'd get along well with yourself?_

"Two of me would get along better than you lot," Rose said, even as thought about all the stupid things she had done, including the time she'd gotten absolutely smashed and nearly crashed her boyfriend's car. But honestly, she suspected that two warring armies might cope better than the Doctor and himself.

"Two Roses," said Jack. "Now, wouldn't that be a sight for sore eyes?"

"Like you'd just _look_," Mickey had joked.

Ah, yes. Add in lewd comments from the boys, on top of the bickering. All Rose could do was share a sigh with Martha.

Eventually, Rose had nearly given up following the conversation, only understanding enough to realise that the Doctors (with the very occasional input of their companions) were trying to think of a way to fuse the pieces of the Doctor's mind and his body back together. It took a while, but eventually they compiled a list of the different things they needed, and even produced a diagram of wires on another screen. Even on a digital piece of equipment, it almost looked like it had been drawn by two arguing kids armed with crayons. Psychic conversations and psychic drawings; Rose wasn't sure which one she liked least.

_Most of the stuff should be in the TARDIS. Probably in the tools closet, but you should probably check the third washroom._

"The one by the wardrobe?" Rose had asked

_No, no, the one by the sun-deck, _said someone who was possibly a different Doctor, while (probably) the other said, _Also, look in the library, under the green sofa! _

_Even with all of that, we'll probably be missing some parts._

"We'll do what we can," said Jack, determinedly. "I'm good at improvising."

Nobody dared say what the alternative was, even though they were all thinking it.

"We've got some tech, too. You might want to look through it," said Martha. "It's mostly scavenged from random space-ships, but you never know what you'll find."

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Jack. With the Doctor having been reduced to two voices bickering in a computer screen, he seemed to have become the impromptu leader. "Everyone break-up, and get looking for parts, and bring them back to the console room if you think you've got anything."

The screen beeped. Everyone turned to look at the Doctor's message. _Actually, probably best that you just leave it all in the bedroom._

_If we wire the stuff in the TARDIS and It misfires, that much energy through the girl's temporal circuits could cause an accidental surge of energy which would totally destroy the facric of space-time._

"But if we just wire it out in the bedroom," said Rose, "All we'll do it blow up the house?"

Nobody even had to look at screen to guess at the Doctor's overly enthusiastic response. _Exactly!_

Martha just shrugged, and headed out of the box. "Won't be the first time the Doctor caused my room to blow up, don't worry."

oOoOoOoOoOo

So, you're in an underground facility, being shot at by guards, you're handcuffed, and the only person who's on your side is a stranger who claims to be your best friend. If the adrenaline and fear hadn't been busy pumping through Amy's body, she might have taken a moment to reflect just how strange her life had gotten.

Improvise, she'd been told. Improvise.

Amy clutched the rod in her hands, feeling clumsy and useless. But she had to think of something, and just sitting there wouldn't help. She pressed the piece of equipment vertically on the ground, awkwardly holding the bottom red button with her fingers. There was no way to hold both buttons with her hands simultaneously, but then, maybe she could get a little more creative. She stuck the device into her mouth, praying that this wouldn't have any unintended side-effects such as melting her tongue, and bit down to where she thought the other button was. She didn't feel it, and stuffed the device even further in her mouth until she nearly felt the need to gag- but there, she felt it! Moving slowly, with only the sense of touch to guide her, and trying to ignore the bitter taste of metal, she finally brought her teeth down on the button. She felt it indent, and her teeth began to chatter as the sub-transistor began to vibrate. She suspected it would be glowing if she could see it. These things usually did.

"Evve got eet!" she mumbled as loudly as she could.

"Good!" The Maybe-Doctor waved his sonic screw-driver one last time at the door barring the guards. "Now, come-on."

She tried to convey that she was going have a little bit of difficulty coming or going anywhere, but that was hard to do when both hands and mouth were incapacitated. Thankfully, the man took her roughly by the arms, pulling her to her feet. Amy felt the rod slip in her hands, but managed to keep hold of it.

The moment she rose to her feet, she heard the firing of the gun; there was a loud whine as a shot passed just centimeters above her head. Amy tried her best to ignore the fact that the shots made the air smell of burning metal. For all that she was often described as a 'flaming red-head', she didn't want that description to become literal.

"Keep low," the Doctor advised her. As he crouched he turned the screwdriver on to the device. "This needs some modifications, and then we need to throw it in over there-" he gestured to the part of the platform that was most directly over the center of the turning pot- "so that it can affect as many molecules as possible."

It was difficult to hear him over the sound of the churning chemicals below and gun-shots; that latter of which, incidentally, would be directly blocking their attempts to get to the former. To get to the other side of the platform someone would have to be directly in the line of fire. Amy regarded the distance critically. It would be possible to throw the device part of the way, but you'd have to break cover for at least a few moments. She tensed her legs, and was about to tighten her grip on the sub-transistor, before she realised that she could hardly do it- she was a rubbish thrower even at the best of times, but with her hands bound?

The Maybe-Doctor seemed to have come to the same conclusion, moments before even she had. He took the device out of her hands.

But- but, she couldn't just have him risk himself. Even with fear screaming at her brain to hide forever, even if she didn't even know who this guy was, it wouldn't be right to let him face this alone.

So she tensed up anyway. "Distraction," she hissed at her companion.

She leaped to her feet, jumping up and down with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She waved her cuffed arms, yelled as loud as possible. "Oh, please, please! Don't hurt me! I surrender! I- I never meant to come here, I don't want to die, oh please." She'd taken drama at A-Levels, and she was pumping every piece of acting skill she could into the performance. She tried to look at pretty and innocent as possible- good looks had helped her pass the drivers' exam, and she hoped the same principle would apply here.

A couple of the more gullible guards began to lower their weapons, and even though a couple of the others let of shots, they were so errantly of the mark, it was obvious that they were nothing but a warning.

"How do we know we can trust you and-" the big, lead guard began...

….just as the Doctor skirted from their protection, and across the platform.

_You can't, _Amy thought victoriously in response, ducking down back behind the barrier of the console.

There was the sound of guns firing; the Doctor, already half-way across the platform with his strong legs, hurled the device into the air. Amy watched it arc gracefully through the air. One of the guards had the clever idea of trying to shoot it down; but it was too small, and their aim was too wild, and they barely had the target in sight before it disappeared over the other side of the rail. Meanwhile, the Doctor had come hurling back, crouched low to make his target smaller. The guards shot at him too; most missed, but one hit him right on the side. Amy heard him gasp in pain as he tumbled over. Amy ducked out of her hiding place, barely thinking what she was doing, and grabbed for him. She managed to clutch his jacket, and even though her grip was perilous, even though the whine of shots was overwhelming, she managed to drag the larger figure back into the safe shadow of the console.

A moment later, Amy heard a quiet 'plop' as the device hit the swirling chemicals below.

She stared down at the Doctor, leaned against the metal wall. He'd been hit in the arm- his leather jacket was burned, but thankfully it seemed to have taken most of the impact of the blast. Amy realised that if he actually had been a security inspector, he truly would have been ashamed with the operation being run here- what type of evil organisation armed their guards with weapons that weren't even fatal?

Nonetheless, she was worried for the Doctor. His eyes- shockingly blue, she noticed- were open, but they looked distant and unfocused. "Poisoned," he breathed. "Would kill humans and about fifteen other dominant life forms- you _are_ human, aren't you?" Amy nodded, and she saw something resembling a satisfied smile pass his lips. "Thought so. Anyway, it won't kill me, just 'cause a whole lot of pain. I should probably get some anti-toxin into me quick."

Amy felt relieved. Whatever her thoughts about this guy, she didn't want him dead.

Suddenly, she became aware of the fact that the guns had stopped firing. Instead, another, more subtle sound had replaced it. It was a bubbling, or a popping, something akin to popcorn in a microwave. She cautiously peeked over the rim of the platform, ready to duck if they were to shoot again; peering over the side, she saw that the liquid had become to turn a horribly venomous looking neon blue, and was frothing with bubbles, like a Jacuzzi from hell.

There was a smell in the air, too. Something that was sour and bitter, and although Amy couldn't think of anything to compare it to, every neuron in her brain was telling her that it was something _bad_.

She felt the Doctor get up behind her. She turned, and found to her amazement, that he was already walking into the centre of the platform, with barely a falter in his step. His hands were shoved nonchalantly into the pockets of his leather jacket. If not for the nasty burn mark on his arm and the surroundings, one could almost imagine him out for a casual stroll in the park.

The guards weren't shooting at them, either. They were still standing behind the gate. The bangs from their direction proved that at least a couple of them were still trying to break through. The others seemed to have realised that it was pointless, and had given up, instead opting to stare bitterly at them.

But why weren't they shooting?

The Doctor turned to look at them, wearing an expression that seemed to suggest that he'd almost forgotten they were there, and if he wished it, they _wouldn't be_. He looked over his shoulder at the guards and said, "Now, don't go thinking about shooting at us. The reaction will be releasing a very volatile gas. One spark from your _guns_,"- he spat that word out- "could make this whole place go up in a fireball. So don't be thick."

He gestured for Amy, and began walking away.

She followed hesitantly, but tried to emulate his walk. It was a fast stride; fast enough to get them out of there quickly, but slow enough that it suggested casual indifference. It was something her own Doctor could pull off, when he wasn't tripping over his own feet. As it was, Amy barely managed not to do the same herself.

By the time they were on the walk way, she whispered to him; "Would they really blow it up? If they shot at us, I mean?"

"I may have stretched the truth a bit."

Amy grinned. Lying even about lying. Brilliant.

But a few steps later, she hesitated. The place _was_ going to blow up. This Doctor had told her, and even her Doctor had said as much, with large hand gestures and a big "booom-whoosh" sound effect, which had made it sound more like something from a kid's imaginary game than something actually destructive. But now it was real. And Amy was suddenly thinking of those guards back there- trapped, with no way to escape, even once the fire-ball came.

"But- the place is going to blow up, right?"

"Yep." The Doctor was walking faster now.

He didn't care, Amy realised. He didn't care that he'd trapped those people.

Maybe she was being silly, or naïve, or both. She'd been told what the company here had been doing, even seen it with her own eyes. The chemical pumped illegally into the water had a whole host of side-effects. Infertility, dementia, extra-limbs, horrible pain, destruction of the eco-system an agriculture; anyone who would allow these things to be released, anyone who would guard the facilities causing it, didn't deserve to be rescued.

But- it seemed incredibly cruel just to let them _die_. Who knew why they were working here- maybe they didn't have any other choice. Maybe they didn't know what they were doing. Even if they did, everyone deserved a second chance, right? Amy thought of that one guard, the human girl, not much younger than herself, and stopped.

The Doctor- and Amy was shocked to realise that she'd stopped putting the 'Maybe' in front of his name- didn't even stop.

He _didn't care_. Maybe she'd been wrong to start trusting this guy, to think he was the Doctor, because _her_ Doctor, the one with a bow-tie and a tweed jacket, would never let this happen. He would always try to save everyone, whether it was an innocent star-whale, or a war-bent Silurian, even if it would be easier just to let the creature die…but this man, he just didn't care.

The man looked back, noticing she'd stopped. He read the expression on her face, and rolled his eyes. "Now, don't be daft."

"You- you think this is being _daft_?" She clenched her fists.

"C'mon, I'm not going to let them die, alright? I set a timer on the door. It'll open up in about five minutes, plenty of time for them to escape before the gas is concentrated enough to explode. They'll be fine. We won't be, though, if we don't get our hides out of here soon. So stop dwaddling and run."

Amy stared, gobsmacked for a moment, before she went chasing after him.

There feet clanging on the metal grating below, they quickly raced through the maze of railings and equipment, as the noise from the production line rose to a crescendo of wails and grinding. It was clearly failing. Soon a new sound joined, a harsh wail of an alarm, repeating "Warning: Critical Overload". If it was possible, they ran faster. The Doctor said they weren't danger of being blown up, but even so, it wouldn't be long until more guards charged in to take care of the scene.

Finally, they made it to the place they'd entered. The door was locked by a very complex and no-doubt expensive digital lock, which took the Doctor all of four seconds and a wave of the screwdriver to unlock.

They were into the halls, all low-ceilings and blue-ominous lights. They didn't hesitate a moment before plunging in.

They charged through the halls, pumping their legs as fast as possible. Amy had never been so glad for her good sense of direction, and her memorisation of the route; she skirted around corners and led the way, with barely a falter or hesitation. Her muscles were burning, and her lungs felt empty, but she knew that she wasn't far away-

"There!"

It was tucked into a little corner, barely noticeable even accepting the Perception Filter. In the blue light the box blended in perfectly with the walls. They raced towards it, and Amy began fumbling in her pocket for the keys; but the man had already got one out, one which was glowing bright yellow. Over the wail of the alarms he slotted the key into the TARDIS' lock, and the doors swung open, with the two of them tumbling in.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Rose had started off with Jack to search the TARDIS for useful items, accompanied by Embers the cat. They weren't completely sure if (one of) the Doctor's had directed him to do that, or if the feline just figured that when in a strange place its best to stick with people you know, but Rose supposed that either way the mind of the Doctor was hanging around, doing whatever disembodied spirits do, ready to assist them.

Both Martha and Mickey had seemed eager to come into the TARDIS to assist them, but Jack had directed them to take care of their own technology. The pair had agreed, even if it caused a couple of wistful glances back at the police box.

Jack had walked briskly, and Rose had to scamper to keep up with him. Eventually they reached the large closet where most of the Doctor's random electronic components were stored, when they weren't randomly turning up in tea-cups or in the occupants' clothes. To her surprise, however, Jack didn't open it, but instead turned to look at her. His expression was serious, and worried.

"What's wrong?" she asked, startled.

"This isn't good," he said.

That surprised her. Jack was usually so calm, so confident- he took even the most dangerous and life-threatening situations with a suave attitude. He was like the Doctor in that respect, except Jack seemed to interject a lot more flirting and innuendo. "I know that," Rose said. "But don't worry too much, the Doctor- Doctor_s_, whatever, said they know how to fix it."

"Not just that. Well, yes, the mind thing is a bit of a problem- but I mean being in the future. That's not good."

She rolled her eyes and moved for the closet. "Oh, come on, Jack. Stop being a worry wart. We go to the future all the time. You've probably done it more than me."

"Yeah, but I've had training," he pointed out. "Besides, it's not just normal traveling to the future. That's fine, usually. No, it's being in your personal future, Rose. You've got to be careful."

There was a cautious tone in his voice, one so different from the gallant joking way he usually acted. That-that worried her, but she didn't want to show it. "Aren't I always?"

"Barrage balloon."

"Besides that."

"I can name hundreds," he teased. "But seriously, watch out. Traveling along your personal time-line can be dangerous. It's….tempting to find out things, or change stuff to your own advantage."

Rose knew that. She'd had to learn firsthand, and even months later, the image of her father dying remained with her. She was sure that it would stay for her whole life. An experience like that….well, what could Jack's training at the Agency be in comparison? It's incredibly easy to say those types of things, if you hadn't felt tempted yourself.

She almost wanted to say as much, but a look in Jack's eyes told her not too. They looked wise, experienced. Rose realised that he'd probably felt the same temptation as she had, at least once. He didn't speak about his past much, at least not about anything important, but everyone has something they regret, or has lost of a loved one. It would be silly to assume otherwise. So instead of a sharp retort, she sighed. "I know, Jack. I'll be careful. I know havoc that information from the future can cause.

She still remembered Adam. She shuddered to think what the Doctor might do to her if she made a similar mistake.

Jack gave a relieved smile. "Good girl. But it's not just that- you've got to be careful around these people."

"What, this Martha lady? I don't know, she seems pretty fine to me…"

"Yes, her. But Mickey, too."

"Mickey!" Shock filled her voice. "Don't be silly."

"I'm not." And his eyes were grave. "Time can do a lot to a person. We know absolutely _nothing_ about Martha. Mickey isn't the same guy you used to get chips with, Rose. More than a decade has passed for him. You have no idea what might have happened in the meantime."

She didn't want to say it, but honestly, Rose much preferred having to face this Mickey instead of the one she had quarreled with in Cardiff, what must now be just a distant memory for the man outside.

But even barring that, Jack was being silly. People could, and did, change, she knew that. But the way he talked, it made it seem like the Captain expected a knife in the back.

That was Jack's flaw, she thought, even though most the time it seemed that he didn't have one. He was too suspicious. Rose remembered when he'd first come on board the TARDIS. Beneath his charismatic exterior, he had been nervous and on edge. He kept acting like the Doctor was a superior commander, always ready to reprimand him, not just a person you could talk to. Moreover, the way he had acted every time they'd landed was like he expected to be abandoned the moment he turned his back. Maybe that was only to be expected, taking into account his life as a con-man, and the way he'd had his memory stolen. But still. "Whatever you say, Jack."

"I'm being serious. You watch our married couple carefully."

If she'd been drinking something, Rose would have spat it out. "_What?_?"

Jack was wearing a disbelieving expression, but one that wasn't nearly as incredulous as Rose's own. "You haven't realised?"

"That they're married? No!"

But now that she mentioned it…well, they seemed to be living together. Rose hadn't assumed they shared a bed-room, but then what was the point of a king-sized bed? And they'd seemed awfully familiar together. And Martha's last name was _Smith_-Jones. She blushed. In retrospect, it was painfully obvious.

"But _married_?" she stuttered.

Jack watched her with amusement. "See what I mean? Time makes a big difference." He grinned at her as he pulled open the doors to the supply room. He began to route through the cavernous 'closet', searching for items he'd read, or occasionally tilting his head as he listened to the Doctor's silent instructions. Rose wasn't much help in searching, but then she hadn't expected to be. She recognised maybe one item as being something the Doctor had gotten her to hold once, but as far as she was concerned, the stuff was all indistinguishable scientific equipment. Jack instead put her to use as a pack-mile, carrying all the items he found. Rose didn't mind, although she made a couple wry comments; her hands might be full, but her brain was free to contemplate the ramifications of the newly revealed information.

It was….weird, and you could only say that with a generous helping of understatement. But as far as Rose was concerned, last she'd seen Mickey they'd had a row over him getting a new girlfriend, and now he was married.

As for being careful around him- well, Rose now knew better than to muck with time. She figured the thing she'd most have to look out for was letting her tongue escape her.

Eventually, in what seemed like no time at all, she was laden with almost more things than she could carry. Wires as wide as snakes were draped over her shoulders, large blocky pieces of metal and plastic were weighing down her arms, and some equipment which looked suspiciously like an over-sized bowler hat was perched on her head, although Jack swore to her that it was a very delicate and sophisticated piece of equipment. Despite the smirk on his face, he seemed serious about it, too. That didn't stop Rose from feeling like she could almost hear a ghostly laugh in her head.

"I'm not going to be able to carry any more," Rose complained, already feeling like her arms were about to fall off. "Could my chivalrous hero lend me a hand?"

"Not when the chivalrous hero is the one who has to do the looking. And besides, isn't chivalry dead to a 21st century gal like you?" She stuck her tongue out at him, and Jack laughed. "How 'bout you go drop your stuff off in the bed-room. If we haven't showed up, you'll probably find us in the library."

"What, so you can load me down with some more stuff? You know how to tempt a girl," she joked, and started down the hallway, barely avoiding backing into the wall behind her and falling. She waddled awkwardly down the corridor, the tower of equipment in her arms wobbling dangerously. Often the TARDIS could be something of a trickster, like how she always seemed to move the washrooms around in the night, but right now she must have taken some sympathy on the human girl, because Rose found her way to the console room surprisingly easily. She'd been afraid of what she'd do when she came to the door, but thankfully Mickey and Martha had left it open.

She dumped everything on the bed, and was about to turn back into the TARDIS when she heard the stomp of familiar footsteps behind her. She turned to see Mickey carting in his own, smaller, pile of stuff. "Wasn't completely sure what would be useful, but the Doctor had the cat give us some help," he explained, dropping his load. "Wonder if Marbles knows what nodding means, or if the Doctor just tells him to move his head up and down, like a puppet."

Rose shrugged, but smiled. Whatever a suspicious Time Agent said, a familiar presence like Mickey was comforting. "Did you get sent to do all the manual labour, too?"

"I wouldn't say that, no." Then he narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. "Are you saying the Captain had you do all the heavy lifting? That's just shameful."

She sniffed. "I know. I got to go back in; they're at the library."

"All the way there?" He shook his head again. "How 'bout we switch places? I take the magical ship, you go help Martha. She's just down in the garage. It's a shorter walk, and I've been fancying a look in the ol' TARDIS again."

Rose's pride told her that she should probably make a feminist comment about chivalry and her not being weaker than the guys, but she could see that Mickey was itching to explore a bit. To be honest, she had a similar feeling; her mate's house of the future would be something interesting to see. "Kay," she said, grinning. "Just go in, go through the corridor on your right, take your third left, keep walking for about two minutes, there should be two doors, but you never kno-"

"Rose." Mickey cut off her instructions. "Don't worry, I'll fine my way."

"Are you sure?" He'd never really been in the TARDIS before, not beyond the console room. He didn't know what it was like.

"Trust me," he assured her, and wandered in. Rose just managed to bite back her questions. She couldn't know too much about her personal future.

It was only once he'd vanished deep into the ship that she realised that _he_ hadn't given _her_ instructions.

It couldn't be too difficult, though; a suburban house had nothing compared to some of the castles, space-ports and bases the Doctor routinely landed her in. She found a kitchen, a washroom, even one little, sparsely decorated bedroom which must be for guests. Rose had supposed that one day it could even be a nursery, but she pushed that idea away quickly. Mickey the father was not something she wanted to contemplate. She was having enough trouble with Mickey the married man.

It was much safer to think about the technology, comparing it to her own time. Everything was pretty similar- you weren't getting holograms, or servant robots, and the kitchen still seemed to have normal looking appliances, but advances were there. She saw a digital picture frame on a shelf that cycled automatically through pictures. Everything else looked much sleeker. A lot of the furniture seemed to be made of plastic or metal, rather than wood. It was a slight difference, but enough of one that it managed to convey the sense that she definitely wasn't in her own time.

She went-down a stair case, an utilitarian looking door suggested the way to the garage. Opening it, she found her guess correct. A slightly cooler temperature bit at her bare arms, obviously lacking the indoor heating of the rest of the house. The place had the slightly dark, grimy look that every garage, no matter where or when their found, seem to acquire by being the holding space of random semi-forgotten objects. On the whole, it seemed a fairly normal looking garage; there was a van, and some boxes, brooms, and other miscellaneous objects. But there was also a wall covered in guns, and many cages lining an entire side. There wasn't anything in them, but Rose felt a cold feeling grow in the put of her stomach.

"Mickey?" said Martha; her body had been half hidden in a cupboard, but at the sound of footsteps she'd pulled herself out. "Oh, hey, Rose. Come to help?"

"Er. Yeah." She didn't move though; instead, her eyes were stuck to the walls of equipment. "What's this all for?"

Martha smiled, her white teeth flashing even in the semi-darkness. "Oh, yes, I can see the Doctor's gotten to you. He got our cat to chew us out when he saw the stuff we had- literally. Don't worry, most of that isn't lethal- tranquilisers and stuff. We don't use most of it, usually."

"And the cages?"

"That's for storage. Not all aliens are of human level intelligence, or are even close to it. Every space ship that crashes has its equivalent of rats on board, and we sometimes have to deal with them."

Feeling less nervous, Rose came to stand next to the older woman, intrigued. "Aliens?"

"Yeah….Mickey and I, well I don't want to say hunt, but we protect the world from aliens. Mostly day-to-day stuff; UNIT works on most of the political side. We're smaller and more discreet. We can track down individuals or small groups; disable them if they're dangerous, give them aid if they need it."

"Oh." The younger girl still felt stiff. She eyed the older woman warily, trying to judge her. A large part of her wanted to criticise for the alien hunting, but that was unfair; Rose knew that her job sounded a great deal like what she did on a daily basis. She also found herself disliking her simply because she was Mickey's wife. That was unfair too, but it was difficult to care about that.

They had a job to do, though. The Doctor needed help, and she couldn't have him stuck just because she was being stupid. So Rose came to sit next to the Martha and help her go through the stuff. It was mostly physical work, such as pulling and heaving, and they were busy enough not to really have a chance to talk. Rose was glad. The awkwardness was heavy enough that it almost seemed to hang in the air. Rose felt painfully aware that she was alone in a room with a woman who would be regarding her as her husband's ex, and didn't much like the feeling.

Martha obviously sensed the tension. "Rose, are you alright?"

"Yeah." Rose choked the words out, and then realised that she would have to offer more than that. "It's just...weird, yeah?"

"Tell me about it," and Rose was somewhat surprised she was being so honest. "Time travel can cause the strangest stuff."

_Oh. Right. _"Yeah tell me about it." There was an awkward silence, filled only by the rustling of their hands through a box. Eventually, Rose decided that if this was going to go anywhere, _something_ would have to break. "Martha…..how do we get along? I mean, the me who's met you."

There was a slight pause as the woman hefted out a long piece of tubing. She stared quizzically at it and said, "To be honest, I've only ever met you once. We got along pretty okay. There wasn't much chance for talk at the time."

"Oh." Rose helped pull the surprisingly large tubing out into the floor. There didn't seem to be much she could say.

"I've heard tonnes about you, of course."

"Oh, boy." Rose nearly groaned. "Mickey should know better than to natter on about an ex."

"Oh, not Mickey." Martha grinned playfully at her. "_The Doctor_."

"That's right," she continued, seeing the girl's unbelieving expression, "Wouldn't stop talking about you, half the time. It could get annoying." She said it in a light, casual way, but there was something in the way Martha turned her face, and a tension in her body as she sorted through more alien technology that suggested an understatement. "It was a bit of a surprise when I finally got to meet you in the flesh. You didn't disappoint, if you're wondering."

"Uh…." Rose had stammered. It was also uncomfortable when you were put in the awkward place of a compliment you didn't know how to respond to. "Well, glad."

She wanted to press on for more information, but knew she couldn't. She remembered Jack's earlier warning, and knew that she was on thin ice. A person shouldn't find out too much about their future. And in this case, Rose wasn't sure if she wanted to.

Because a question haunted at her. If Martha had known- or would know- the Doctor, apparently quite well, why had the two humans met only once? Rose did not want to leave the Doctor, and she did not plan to, but Martha's words suggested…

_No, _she told herself resolutely. She stubbornly pushed those thoughts to the back of the head, and continued working.

That she had done for the rest of the night. She had helped carry the modest load supplied by the Smith-Jones' into their bedroom, and even helped take one smaller one from the medical bay in the TARDIS. Then the entire group had sat down to begin working. Rose didn't begin to understand the science- she guessed that the only ones that did were the two spirits of the Doctor, whispering in the ears of two little cats. But Jack seemed to understand enough, and Martha was confident enough that she seemed to understand a fifth of what the captain said. Even Mickey didn't seemed all that baffled by the theory, and Rose had to remind herself that he had hacked into Britain's weapon system, and that had been over ten years ago for the man standing before her now. In short, the London shop-girl felt completely out of her league, but when traveling on the TARDIS, you got used to that feeling. Thankfully, at a certain level you didn't need to understand what you were doing, but just _do it._ She was handy with some basic tools, and probably the most proficient with a sonic screwdriver, which they had found lurking underneath the ship's main console. They worked for hours; the room filled with the whir of equipment, the smoke from alien contraptions, and the hot scent of chemicals. There wasn't a lot of talking. Everyone was too focused on their work, and after a while, they were too exhausted to do it anyway. Rose had focused on doing her job, and trying to sort her tangled thoughts out, until she started to burn herself with a soldering iron and switched to just doing the former.

They worked for hours. It was only when pre-dawn light began to leak through the curtains that the two cats leapt onto the now grease stained beds, and yowled proudly. Jack stood up and surveyed their work.

A circle of green-plastic tubing circled the bed, criss-crossed with a fine mesh of a silvery metal, making it appear that a very industrious spider had decided to build a giant web in the room. Wires branched off from it, linking the web to power-outlets on the wall, back-up power from at least six different time periods, and the TARDIS. A whole host of other strange devices that they'd collected over the evening seemed tacked on as after thoughts; Rose even noticed the strange bowler hat-like object from earlier. "It looks good," Jack announced. "Not the most polished work I've ever seen, of course. And it'll be amazing if all the lights in the city don't go out. But the Doctors seem to think it'll work."

Everyone else stared. For all their hard work, it didn't _look_ very robust. But then, if an alien who flew around in a time machine held together by the space equivalent of duct-tape said it was functional, who were they do disagree?

"Okay," said Martha. "Everyone back away. I'll be turning it on in ten, nine…."

They all listened. Mickey held a flashlight, and pointed it at the centre of the room, in case the power went off. The two cats lurked fearfully behind the humans' legs. Rose clutched the sonic screwdriver so hard that it began to bite into her palm. She hoped she didn't die. It would probably cause a massive paradox, knowing the day she was having.

Martha kept counting down.

"Three….two….one…."

She flicked a switch on the ground. There was a grinding sound that seemed to fill the whole world, deafening it. Then there was a boom, and flash, and more than a few yelps, and one that Rose knew definitely didn't belong to anyone who was in the room just moments before. Because a body appeared just feet above the bed, and fell to the mattress with a muffled gasp.

It wasn't the Doctor's, Rose thought. It was far too tweedy for that.

oOoOoOoOoOo


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Oh, boy. Sorry, this was a long wait. But now that there's no weekly dosage of Who, maybe I'll be less distracted.

**Chapter 6**

oOoOoOoOoOo

Jack would have been embarrassed to admit that when the jacketed stranger flashed into the room, he was too surprised to react. But as it was, all he could manage was to stare quite blankly at the man on the bed, wearing a near identical expression to the one on Rose's face.

The other two people in the room were far more on top of things. They instantly ran forward; Martha was immediately at the man's side, apparently checking for vitals and doing other medical first aid. Mickey was apparently sensible enough not to disrupt her, but he did ask, cautiously; "Doctor?"

Martha laid a hand on the man's neck, spurring him to roll onto his back. "Well," he slurred, "that was different."

His voice was British, and young. Very young. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, but now that his face was revealed, Jack noticed just how soft and sweet it looked. What the Hell had just happened?

"Are you okay?" asked Martha. It wasn't the first question Jack would have had, but the Hippocratic Oath was rather deeply ingrained in human medics.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I think so. Fairly sure. Do I have legs? I'd check myself, but I'm rather afraid that my head will explode if I open my eyes."

"Er, yes," said Martha. "You definitely have legs."

"Oh. Good."

Everyone in the room who wasn't currently lying on the bed shared a glance.

Mickey was the first to speak again. "Doctor, is that you?"

The man on the bed didn't respond immediately. He was too busy checking over his body with a questioning hand, making sure it was all there. Jack knew the answer to the question, but Rose beat him to it.

"That's not the Doctor! I don't know who he is, but he's _definitely_ not the Doctor."

"Says who?" retorted the man on the bed.

"Says- _common sense_!" spat Rose. "I've seen the Doctor, and you ain't him. He's bigger and looks older and…," she scrambled for something else, "he wears better clothes."

"Oi, what's wrong with my clothes? They're perfectly fine. Better than fine. They're cool."

Rose opened her mouth to complain again, but Jack hesitated. He read people for a living, and if this scenario was a picture, it had a very interesting caption. Mickey and Martha were not acting confused, but quick and professional. There was only the slightest hint of doubt on their faces. Either they knew something Jack didn't, or they _thought_ they did, which was almost as intriguing.

Rose was still going strong, however. She turned to her old boyfriend. "Come on, Mickey! You know that the Doctor doesn't look like this."

The man hesitated, biting his lip. "It's more complicated than that…"

He gave a coded look to his wife, one that Jack decoded immediately. It was one that said that information needed to be shared, but not _too_ much, and how do I do it? Privately the Captain thought he was being smart to passing this onto someone else; Mickey had the tact of a sledgehammer. Whether or not he thought it was smart for them to be keeping secrets at all was yet to be seen.

"It's to do with the Doctor's species," Martha explained, but there was a long pause before she said anything else. She rummaged through the side-table, and extracted what looked like a very basic medical kit. She held up her hand for silence as she checked the man on the bed; first she pressed a thermometer into his mouth. He yelped in surprise at the sudden intrusion, gagging, his eyes popping open in surprise. "There. You didn't explode," Martha said, teasing.

"Why'd you go and do _that_ for?" he whined.

"Shut up, you big baby. I was checking your temperature. It seems normal, by the way." Next she took out what Jack recognised from history class as a stethoscope, used for monitoring heart-beat. "You know the drill."

The man smiled, and his grin had some history behind it. Jack watched, fascinated, as he unbuttoned his shirt and let the doctor press the cold metal to his chest. The ex-time-agent's head was already reeling, processing information, but it kicked into top gear when he watched Martha pressed the instrument not only onto the left side of the chest, but also the right, and then listen for a long, long period of time. "Your pulses are fine too, by the way."

Captain Jack knew the Doctor was not human. That much was obvious. Even if someone was too thick to notice the difference in temperature or the reactions to a different set of senses, when the driver of your ship kept deriding all those "stupid apes", you picked up quick that he wasn't from the same evolutionary tree as _Homo sapiens._ That didn't bother him. Jack had worked and slept with aliens for his entire adult life. He just figured the guy was one of the ninety-seven known species nearly identical to his own. At first, when he still half-expected to be abandoned or attacked by the guy, Jack had made it first priority to work out which one he was, specifically. When it had dawned on him that he wasn't going to work It out, and that even if he did, the information wouldn't help much, Jack had refilled it into a bit of a game. Something he could do for entertainment, but wasn't high priority.

But now….well, this was interesting. Two hearts. Doctor or not, there were only a handful of species with that particular physiological quirk. And that was just the beginning.

"_What_ about the Doctor's species?" he asked, slowly.

About three people opened their mouths to reply, but it was Rose who spoke first. "Yeah, what _about_ the Time Lords?"

"We're special," said the man on the bed. He still looked a little dazed.

"They change. They don't always keep the same body. When they're hurt, they do something called regeneration. Become a new person. Involves lots of bright orange light." Martha shot an amused glance at the man on the bed, who just shrugged.

Rose looked skeptical, and maybe a little hurt. "Is that true, Mickey?"

"Sure is, babe. One day you came to me, dragging along this total stranger, said he was the Doctor. Collapsed in my arms, wished me a merry Christmas. He was still wearing that ol' leather jacket of his."

"Shut up."

Everyone turned to look at Jack.

He felt as if he had been watching the conversation from the distance, but now he knew he had to speak up. "Shut up. You're talking about the future. Paradoxes." He stared long and hard at the man on the bed; the man who they said was a Time Lord. A Time-Lord. And one part of Jack's brain was screaming at him not believe them, and unfortunately, that was the rational part of it.

Because Time Lords were myths. Legends. Fairy tales so unbelievable, dark, and twisted that even fairies told them to frighten their kids. But that's all they were, fairy tales, right? At least, that's what Jack had believed until he'd entered the Time Agency. There had been rumours. Like all rumours, they had varied to the point where you could get fifteen different versions, and it was doubtful that any of them would be the full truth, but it made you wonder. People said that the Time Lords were real, and controlled the agency with invisible strings. Others said they were real, but no more than puppets controlled by the agency. A popular theory was they had once existed, but their pride drove them to ruins, like a modern Atlantis. Others still said that the whole concept was engineered to make people for fearful of tampering with the Vortex.

Maybe he shouldn't believe it, but it made an eerie amount of sense. Like a billion pieces that suddenly came together into a coherent picture. The technology that the Doctor had was more advanced than that of any other time travellers'. The way he sometimes seemed to listen to the Time Vortex. The blasé way he spoke about other species. You wouldn't think of it, no more than you'd assume that everyone you met was Bigfoot or a Star-Turtle, but all that evidence did point towards Time Lord.

On the most part, Jack hadn't really thought about the Time Lords. No bother worrying about them unless one showed up in the flesh, right?

Well, that time had come and gone.

Every cowardly instinct in Jack's body was saying to run. But he couldn't. You couldn't escape a Time Lord, everyone knew that. The best you could do was make sure you didn't mess up, because everyone knew what happened if you did…

"Are you really the Doctor?" he asked, sounding confident but on the inside quailing. He had to know for sure, but he did not like the idea of ordering a _Time Lord_ around.

"Yes, Jack, it's really me. Blimey, I'd forgotten what a bother regenerating was. You lot always get so confused…" He wobbled to his feet, and shot a disarming smile at everyone when he failed to fall to the ground. "Oh, good, everything seems to be working."

The Smith-Jones seemed to take over then. Martha made sure that her patient really wasn't going to collapse on a moment's notice. Mickey announced that he was going to make tea, since that had helped a lot last time. The Doctor had protested, saying "I haven't _just_ regenerated, tannin molecules won't do me a bit of good," but then he'd heard that they has Earl Grey and he'd become positively excited by the prospect of a good cuppa, provided that there were Jammy Dodgers. The other two humans had hung back, only following them to the kitchen after they realised that even the cats had left the room.

Jack glanced at Rose as they walked. The girl was biting her lip, but she wasn't half as worried as the captain. "You knew the Doctor was a Time Lord?"

"Yeah, 'course. He told me way back, not long after I met him." She obviously misread the expression on his face, because she back-tracked. "I'm sorry I never told you, Jack, but he's really sensitive about it, and I thought I should let him tell you himself…." She trailed off, looking glumly at the ground. "But you know about the Time Lords, yeah? You've heard about them?"

"Yeah." _Talk about understatement_.

"Is it true? The body changing thing?" Jack nodded. "Oh…..I wonder why he didn't tell me."

It was amazing. Rose was acting like a love-stuck kid who'd just learned her crush had been keeping something from her, completely oblivious to the fact that her crush was a being of god-like proportions. "I'm sure he had his reasons," he said noncommittally. Jack felt that if half the myths about regeneration were true, they were very good reasons indeed.

Their hushed conversation broke up when they entered the kitchen.

"….trying to communicate through the cats?" Mickey was saying.

"Yep," the Doctor said, smug.

"Well, it didn't do a very good job of it. What was a bow-tie supposed to tell us?"

"Well, I do wear one."

"Yeah, but we didn't know that. Last time we saw you wore a tie and pinstripes."

The young man looked momentarily embarrassed. "Er, yes, well. Not really my fault. I tried telling your cat that, and while he was very helpful, he's not the most clever kitten in the box. Not that box of Schrodinger's, of course, but there was only one cat in there anyway." He bent down and scratched Marbles affectionately on the head. "Besides, it would have been ridiculous carrying around pinstripes."

Martha rolled her eyes at Jack. He forced a smile to his face.

"Ah! There you two are. Thought you'd wandered off again. Would you like some tea? Mickey's just poured me some."

Rose agreed, but out of habit Jack asked; "Have anything stronger?"

"How about coffee?" asked Mickey.

"Stronger."

"It's nearly five in the morning, mate. No way."

Jack sighed, and agreed to the coffee. He'd had it a few times, mostly on board the TARDIS, and found the Old Earth drink to be bitter and energizing, but unsatisfying to someone used to caffeine pills. But after such a long night of work, he could do with a jolt of energy, however small. Besides, if he was really around a Time Lord, he would need to be as sober as possible.

Everyone stood around the kitchen, awkward. Everything felt tense, wound up. Rose was hanging close to him, never letting her eyes leave the Doctor, as if expecting him to suddenly change any moment. The other two were more comfortable, but only just. Martha was acting inviting and friendly, but it seemed just like that, an act. Maybe she really had been close friends with another Doctor, but it was clear that she wasn't completely sure where she stood with this new one, and it bothered her, even though she knew it shouldn't. Mickey, surprisingly, was the most calm, acting like this was a combination of a get together with his mates, and a bit of unexpected work.

As for the Doctor….well, he felt like a cross between hyperactive little kid and an out-of-date old man, neither of whom quite know how to act around adults. He took a deep swig of his tea, only to spit it back out into his cup when he discovered it to be too hot.

"Ah, ah, burning, burning!" He stuck out his tongue and glared at the mug. "Right then, we'll skip the tea then. Let's get going."

The humans all exchanged glances. "Go where?" asked Martha.

"To the TARDIS." He said it like it should be obvious.

"Right. Why?"

"Well, you do want to find the other me, don't you?"

Ah, yes. The other him. All leather and big ears and snarky comments. In honesty, Jack missed him, and wished he was here. At any other time, he would have been eager to get going; to make sure he was fine. But right now, he was thinking only one thing;

_Two Time Lords. At the same time. _

_Shit._

oOoOoOoOoOo

Almost every time Amy entered the TARDIS after running for her life, she found herself thinking that she'd never been so thankful to be in the ship, and this time was no exception. The Doctor clearly didn't share this opinion.

"Ugh….this theme. Its 'orrible."

Amy shut the doors behind them with a slam. "What're you talking about?"

"This!" He gestured at the shimmering, shining console room. "It looks like a glitter truck crashed into an antiques shop."

She crossed her arms, and was about to respond with an angry retort, when the man stumbled, nearly falling to the glass floor. He caught himself just in time, managing to pull himself to his feet. Alarmed, Amy rushed to him, but hesitated in coming to hold him up. "Poison," he muttered as explanation.

Right. How could she forget? Amy could see the burning graze where the Doctor had been hit. He managed to make it to the console before falling, nearly draping himself against it.

She could dimly hear noise from outside of the ship; the echo of feet pounding against the ground as guards charged everywhere. Evidently the Doctor did too, since he continued to reach for the controls, and began to pull them into the dematerialisation sequence.

"Oh, no you don't," Amy protests, jumping to his side. "They can't find us, can they? And even if they do, they can't get in, right?"

The Doctor looked like he was going to argue, but then relented, his expression softening. Amy had been on the TARDIS for a while, and she knew the ship was her safe haven, the one place in the universe where nothing could catch them. In comparison, she did not like the chances of the Doctor crashing the ship and killing them all. He could barely steer the thing normally, let alone when he was dropping to the ground half-dead.

Just as she thought it, he dropped to the ground, half-dead.

She dropped to the ground. He was still conscious. His eyes gazed muzzily at her as Amy vaguely recalled some first aid training that someone had given. She helped pull him to his feet, draped his good arm around her shoulders and took his weight. Awkwardly, she started for the stairs. He was heavy. Way heavier than her Doctor.

He did what he could; his feet moved, and he was trying to stay as light as possible, but it was a feat reminiscent of an elephant trying to be a ballerina. "I thought you said the poison couldn't kill you!"

"It can't," retorted the Doctor. "But it can get real close."

Amy cursed.

They quickly came to the stairs, and though it involved much huffing, puffing and nearly falling, the pair managed them remarkably well, considering the circumstances. Clumsily they wandered into the hall. Amy's heart beat faster; she did not relish the idea of wandering the corridors looking for the med-bay when half the time she couldn't even find her bedroom. But a door to her left- a door, which yesterday had led to a rather eclectic art gallery- swung open, revealing the sterile white insides of a medical centre. She pulled her burden in with relief; she was now nearly carrying him completely. She laid him as softly as he could on the nearest bed, and he managed a watery smile in response. She wondered if the Doctor had rearranged the layout mentally. Probably not, he looked too exhausted; the blue box must have done it herself.

"Okay, Doctor, what should I do?" There was no answer but a groan. The alien's eyes were closed, his face pale. He was unconscious, or very close to it.

Amy looked around in a panic. Many rooms on the ship were foreign to her, filled with a chaotic jumble of technology from a million different eras, but this one was even more mysterious to her. This wasn't the Doctor's usual disorganisation; she could tell there was some sort of order to it all, but it all belonged to the impenetrable world of health care. There were beeping machines, vials of strange coloured liquid, vials of strange _beeping_ liquid, which Amy regarded a little bit nervously. She called out the Doctor's name again, but there wasn't even a groan in response.

The panic started, like a little flutter. What now? She wasn't a medical professional, not by a long shot! She wished someone else was here, a _proper _doctor, or a nurse. Definitely a nurse, he'd know what to do, he always did….

She started charging around the medical bay, ripping open closets, glancing inside drawers. She saw bandages and needles and creams, but she needed something else. She forced herself to try and relax. Focus. _Medicine, _she though, _cure. _

She felt a strange swirling of curiosity, one that wasn't her own. She realised with a shock that she'd been an idiot. The TARDIS was alive, the Doctor had said, and she'd been tempted to believe it, so what if the ship was also conscious, what if it could hear her?

_Help, _she thought again. She focused on the image of the man in front of her, and then reimagined him as _her_ Doctor, the Raggedy Man, just in case the TARDIS wouldn't understand, and thought about cures and medicine, and just little bit of fear that he wouldn't make it…

Through her tightly closed eyes, she saw lights flashing. Opening them, she realised everything in the medical bay had dimmed, except for a spot-light on an open cabinet. She rushed forward; the closet was lined with beakers, and she would have felt flustered and confused, except one was vibrating slightly. She didn't know how this worked, how any of it worked, but she didn't need to.

She thought 'thank you' with all of her might. She wasn't sure if there was any response; except maybe, maybe, a flicker of tenderness.

She pulled the Doctor's heavy body up; he stirred a few times, like he was fighting sleep. She wasn't completely sure how you gave this medicine to someone who was unconcious. Should she get a needle and inject it? Rub it on their skin?

A half memory, one she could barely remember, flickered through her brain; someone vaguely familiar was teaching her first aid….you tilt the person's head up, so they don't drown….how you slip a little bit of the drink into their mouth, massage its passage down…she didn't know who had taught her that, but she thanked him, too.

So she took the liquid, and dribbled it through the man's lips, slowly. At first her hands shook. Then she massaged it down. She didn't know when to stop; what was too little, what was an overdose? She settled for when he started to look less pale, for when he stopped shivering.

So the girl sat back, and waited.

oOoOoOoOo

Rory found himself back at the door to the console room in even quicker this time; he may have been imagining it, put it almost felt as though the corridors has been shifting, guiding him the right way. He faltered a few moments before hesitantly pushing his way into the room.

The Doctor was at the bottom of the stairs, completely oblivious to the man above. He was far more subdued than before, walking slowly around the console, making adjustments to the devices with slow deliberation. The lighting had changed to a mellow dark green, and the room was cast into heavy shadow. Something about the scene caused goose-bumps to rise on the human's skin. There was something so lonely about what he was seeing. The figure below wasn't the comical child he acted like around others, but seemed to thrum with a barely restrained power, the same energy Rory had felt surging through his mind but an hour before.

He coughed, awkwardly.

Below, the Doctor spun around, his face looking momentarily surprised before breaking into a huge smile. "Rory! You're back!"

"Er. Yeah."

He walked slowly down the steps, not completely sure what to say or do. He hadn't been sure how the Doctor would react to his reappearance, but he hadn't quite expected to be welcomed with hugs and smiles.

But then…it wasn't _quite_ that, was it? Rory could sense the tension in the alien's body, just painted over. It was a very good cover-up, but the paint was cracking. There was the smallest hesitation in the Doctor's greeting, the most fleeting of worried glances. He wasn't sure if the feeling was intended for him or Amy. He decided it didn't matter; all he knew was how he felt. "Look….I'm sorry about earlier. But I want to help Amy. We need to save her."

"Well, of course we do," the Doctor says in a voice that somehow conveys an eye roll vocally. He jumps back, and starts twirling around the console, spinning and pulling things seemingly at random. All his seriousness seems to have drained away. He grinned at Rory through the glass pillar. "Knew you'd be back."

The human didn't reply, but thought, _I sure didn't._

Slowly the glass centre began to move; slowly at first, than faster, pumping up and down. For a strange moment Rory fancied that he can feel it churning time itself. The ground shuddered beneath their feet, and he they had to fight to keep balanced. "Where are we going? Er, _when_, I mean?"

"Victorian London!"

"Victoria…." He trails off, confused. It was a little less advanced than he was expected. "What's there?"

"Lots of buildings, the Thames, Queen Victoria too, if she's not being eaten by werewolves. But it's not what, Rory, it's _who_. Reptile people are dead useful in a crisis. Well, not dead, but you catch my drift. Just popping in to call on a couple of favours."

Already Rory felt lost and baffled. "I'm sorry- reptile people?"

"Alright, reptile person," he amended. "Just getting the coordinates down, I need to avoid running into myself. You know how it is."

_No I don't, _Rory thought. He also thought that he could never understand what this guy's talking about, even with all his memory intact. Still, he felt somewhat useless clutching the railing, doing nothing but not trying to fall over. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He didn't expect there to be anything, but the Doctor surprised him. "Yes, go get changed. You should find your Roman Centurion outfit in the closet, go put that on."

"You mean the metal breast-plate and sword? _Why_?"

"Because humans are squishy and need protecting?" the Doctor said, with a teasing tone. "No. It's all about the clothes Rory- it's all about….."He trailed of, staring at him. "….the clothes."

He stepped forward, the joy dropping from him again. He stared at Rory critically, and he had to fight down an instinct to step back from his analysing gaze. "I'm an idiot, Rory," he said quietly. "Don't you see? It's all _about the clothes_."

"Uh…."

"Look. _Look_ at what you're wearing." Confused, Rory did as he was told. He was dressed in nothing special. Jeans, blue t-shirt, runners, all stained by dirt and mud from the fall. He saw nothing extraordinary about them, and was about to say as much, but the Doctor spoke first. "Now, remember when you fell?"

The memory came instantly; not his own missing memory of the incident, but the one he has stolen from the Doctor. It seemed to swallow him immediately; but unlike last time, Rory still felt rooted to his own sense of self. Through the Doctor's eyes he saw the battle-field. He could smell not only the overpowering scent of gun-power and blood, but pick out individual elements in the air. Strangest, and most disorientating of all, he could feel the different threads of time swirling around him.

"What were you wearing?" the Doctor asked, and in the memory, Rory saw himself set out across the battlefield. He was difficult to see through the smoke but…jeans, yes. But- was he wearing a red-shirt? No, it was a red padded jacket-vest….but beneath that was a shirt. Not the blue one he was wearing presently, but one of a dark brown colour….And Rory recalled the bomb landing nearby, completely hiding him for a few moments in smoke. The memory faded into the other one he'd taken from the Doctor. The one in the bedroom, of himbeing laid down to rest. The clothes he'd been wearing were the same ones he was wearing now- but they were different from before he'd fallen. Shocked, Rory was jolted from the memory. "I changed clothes. When I fell, I changed clothes!"

"Exactly."

"How didn't we notice it?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Like I said. Idiot. I didn't even notice it, not at first- what tipped me off was your ring."

"My ring? I don't have a ring."

"Exactly," he repeated. The Doctor glanced down at Rory's hand. "Usually you have a wedding ring. You don't take it off. And then it was gone, meaning that something was very, very wrong."

Rory looked down to confirm that his fingers really were bare. "But…what does that mean? Maybe I changed, or something? Maybe for a disguise?" It sounded unlikely even as he said it. You didn't change when a bomb hadn't landed just feet away.

"Maybe." But the Doctor looked doubtful. He had already jumped back to the console; he pulled down one of the orange screens hanging there. Rory had mostly been ignoring them, as they were always filled with nonsense he could barely comprehend- spinning, intricate swirls which looked like the random creations of a child with a mathematical compass than anything sensible. Now the Doctor worked feverishly, and the screen changed, producing English words. It said "**SCAN**".

"Rory, come stand over here," the Doctor said, slightly frantically, gesturing for a spot a few feet away from the screen. Nervous, Rory obliged. The Doctor commanded the thing to begin scanning, and an image of the human body appeared on the monitor. He didn't feel anything at all. But clearly something was happening, as the image on the screen changed, showing a three dimensional version of him.

**Name**: Rory Williams  
><strong>Species: <strong>_Homo sapien sapien  
><em>**Age:** 17_  
><em>**Sex:** Male 

The Doctor let out a triumphant "ha!" but Rory found himself looking at the information for several long moments, not quite sure what was wrong. All the information was correct. That was his name, that was his species, his sex, his age….

His age. He was 17, last time he remembered. But that was what he _remembered._ But if he'd had time to get married and travel space and time, shouldn't he be older? Why hadn't he aged according to all the time he had forgotten?

As if he could hear his thoughts, the Doctor said; "You're not missing any memories. You never had them in the first place."

"But you said I travelled with you! And there were all those pictures! Are they wrong too?"

"No, no, no. Both of them are correct. You see, you haven't had those memories _yet_." He grinned at him, and it was a wild, ecstatic grin of someone who felt like they'd just found the most amazing thing ever. "Don't you see, no one's been messing with your head! Someone's been messing with time!"

"Oh. Good." Rory couldn't see how that was any better. Then something occurred to him. "Wait…if I'm here, where's the older me?"

The smile on the Doctor's face faltered. "Ah. Yes. Well. I'd assume that he's where you were. In other words, you've switched placed."

Somewhere, thousands of light and human years away, a different Rory Williams woke up, and was very, very confused.


End file.
